Boundaries of August melt
Continents wing to wing
Islands used to be anchored
To the chill tropical waters bring
Cicada rhythms hum
Years underlying the dream
I was alone when I was with you
The mineral skies deceive.
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11 comments:
When I was little I used to love to draw butterflies, but could not figure out why they never looked right. Finally I realized it was because I was drawing little wings on top and big wings on bottom.
For me they are one of nature's true gifts.
Beautiful.
"I was alone when I was with you,"
YES!
i love this picture! butterflies are so georgeous.
and i had one just like this land on my fingers last week.
magic.
The line Hoodie mentioned hit me hard as well. Wonderful as always, Jason.
"I was alone when I was with you." We've all felt that, haven't we. I love the way you put the words together.
how sad this poem is...even the butterfly's wings are in need of some repair... August has now started to wave to September a hello and some introspection with it follows - winter might be closer that you think...
I also loved that line. Beautiful photo too.
There's a butterfly garden I go to every year. I hope one day to have one of my own.
Excellent picture.
A lovely and poignant poem, Jason.
Hoodie, watching them is peaceful. Their movements when the open and close their wings is mesmerizing.
Kate, that is amazing! You must have been very still (and safe-looking). :)
Jaye, thanks. :) I knew that line would be an attention-getter.
Kaycie, it's a powerful feeling, and I'm not sure we're aware of its extent until some time later.
SzélsőFa, that's a wonderful observation. :) Maybe I do feel the first distant breaths of winter.
Church Lady, we have a couple large butterfly bushes by a garden pond. It's pretty popular with these fellas.
Therese, thanks. =)
Jude, much appreciated!
The meaning of together and alone is all too often manipulated for one's end.
Something tells me you understand them both perfectly.
Butterflies have a special significance for me; a connection/bond with my mom who passed on last May. Whenever I see one now, I feel her presence closely drawn to me again.
Thanks for sharing this lovely photo and poem Jason.
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