By David Roth
© 20th February, 2005
Tiny legs emerging from the silken, sheltering pod
Time is of the essence, freedom cannot come too soon,
Butterfly crawls forward from the depths of dark cocoon.
Wrinkled and unsteady, drunken with uncertain gait,
Colorless and weary, drab and dreary, born to wait.
Not the fuzzy worm the silken catacomb did spin,
Changed, impressive rebirth, crawling forth, new life begin.
There before bewildered eyes, colors pulse and grow,
Spreading wings, a stretch, a yawn, sublime ethereal glow,
To lift, to soar, to take the air, to ride the gentle air,
To flitter to and fro to suckle nectar here and there.
Oh butterfly, sweet, radiant thing, alight upon my finger,
How gentle and majestic, you, a moment more to linger,
Then off again, take flight, set free! In awe, I watch you go,
Angelic flight on flashing wing, go! Bid the world hello!
