Hour Of The Butterflies


Hour of the butterflies

The season’s  quick
Summer’s slide
To ruin  ties
Autumn to the end—-
A thickening jumble
Of seeds, stems and browning petals

late, fading rainbows
Of beautiful drifters
Linger in the humble
Tangle of broken lace,
Thistles and hollyhock.

A shock to busy bees,
Hummingbirds fly and hover
The dizzying world,
Of Jasmine,  Buddleia and Trumpet vines
When in  seize,
During the hour of  butterflies.

Transition signs as
Golden hearts
Gyre down—-
The ground softly covered
When the Bodhi tree
Lets go.

Just so,
Blue Morning glories,
Red Runners
And Oleanders align to,
Feed the hour of butterflies.

( for Janet )

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1 Response to Hour Of The Butterflies

  1. Anonymous says:

    ah, dear poet
    lovely words for the hours between summer and an early fall…congrats dear poet..thinking of you three from here in the Oregon wild…much love from p’apple

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