My puppy has discovered butterflies.
He does not know their name,
or why the flutter –
tantalizing –
just out of reach.
He only see white gossamer wings
as they float and dart.
He only knows
that he is captivated by their flight.
And so,
although they’re always just ahead
or flitting up too high,
he leaps and bounds in his pursuit
delighted by the joy of seeking
whether or not he ever captures
what he seeks.
A flower smiled at me
as I was walking by,
distracted by my thoughts, and cares,
all unaware that here
within my reach
there was this stunning power:
beauty in a broken world.
I might have missed it in my rush,
but it stood tall and proud
it’s glowing, sun-rimmed, dark-eyed face
on level with my own
and beckoned me to stop
and gaze
and take a breath of joy.
And as I stood, and gazed, and breathed
— for this sweet moment full-aware —
the flower swayed and waved it’s salutation
moving in the wind
of passing cars
(which, doubtless, burned the flower
with their breath of noxious gas
that over-heats the life of growing, greening things).
But still the flower danced
and in that dance
it tugged the corners of my mouth
to smile back.
Faith, Family, & Focaccia 