An evening of Myth and Poetry

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annette meserve, storyteller, business, facebook page, writer, author, poetry, fiction

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February 1, 2017  in Trinidad, CO

annette meserve writing storyteller poet author fiction flash short stories novels

​​​The butterfly flutters, 

the butterfly floats, 
its bright wings reflected 
in the eye of a goat, 

who climbs and then balances 
on mountain peak high 
only to stop 
and listen to sighs 

of wings in the wind 
on golden breeze soft, 
catching the uplift
and staying aloft 

on air that's as thin 
​as the last of the day, 

sunset approaching 

while fly flies away, 

the lacy winged creature 
heading for home, 

a striking small speck 

alight in the gloam 

"But wait and watch out," 
exclaims the perched goat, 

"for alone it is not, 
that fluttering mote." 

​As one looks 'round more, 
you soon realize 
the thin air is filled 
and the wave it does rise 

made of wings that are here, 
and wings that are there, 
the billions of souls 
all flying to where 

they will gather and clump 
in rather large groups, 
sticking to trees 
whose branches will droop 

with the feather-light weight, 
collectively heavy, 
their uncounted numbers
in a very large bevy 

of magical lives, 
each one of them fleeting, 
each one of them singular, 
each one of them meeting, 

its fate without pause, 
the dying comes soonest, 
but together they're all 
species opportunists 

for they've left in their place, 
the next generation 
which, after the hatching 
will take up its station 

to chew and to crawl 
high up in the branches, 
to spin and to sleep 
until fortunes and chances 

smile down upon most 
who hang there in the trees. 
They climb from cocoons 
and dried by the breeze, 

lift new from their forest, 
sailing up and away, 
carried into  the wind 
as they learn how to play. 

And their return journey, 
as they flutter and float, 
of course, passes by 
the perch of the goat. 

He'll watch and he'll wonder,
his hooves holding tight 
his clear eyes reflecting 
colors flashing in light 

"They're coming on back," 
​the goat will exclaim 
the butterflies' children 
​all calling his name, 

​all happy to see him 
stood there on the peak, 
him waiting to greet them
as they go to seek 

the paths of their parents, 
their birthright and fate, 
the distance they'll cover, 
in search of a mate, 

to start once again 
the cycle unending, 
for the health of the planet, 
their efforts unbending. 

                               ©2019 Annette Meserve



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