The Butterfly and the hand
While summer day leaden lids ushered in sleep
and into tranquil mind gentle dreams did seep,
hands, limp and lifeless facing the balmy sun ,
as exquisite mind stilled musing had just begun
I became at once aware of an imagined touch,
for it was almost too slight be known as such.
Then without intent, eyes dropped onto my palm.
The world was a solemn stillness, all was calm,
and there rested a Butterfly, there in my hand.
I was awestruck, blessed by a vision so grand.
As I watched it’s wings twitch and flap in code,
entranced by the vivid flash colour it showed,
I wondered what news delicate herald brought,
and did it not fear to be by frightful fist caught.
I seemed to understand, but what I couldn’t say,
then gone that beautiful moment as it flew away.