Tuesday 21 December 2010

Flutterfly

Inactivity becomes moving minstrel
sounds of natural music,
muted by distance, from a shell
appears an imago, perfect.

The chrysalis of blooming colours;
reds and pinks and pearls
so white of pure crystalline wine,
aged and cracked with time.

It’s a grammalogue of nature;
hibernating morphosis
from ugly duckling to Cygnus:
the painted fly of butter.

Flutters the wings from leaf to leaf,
it seeks its hardened siblings.
Then, up, camouflaging with the sky,
chasing forever its new life.

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