The Butterfly and the Hail Storm

Image
 
In the morning, while the sun knew
and I was time, she drifted to me.  Blue,
floating blue cascade shimmer, she came
to me with whispers of summer still.
Quieted by her dance, I stayed as she
settled upon me, smiled with her indigo
wings, round eyes and watched me
wonder her blue deep through me.
 
And then later, on the mountain, darkness
dropped, as it does with time, sky turning,
mirroring granite below. Rain pelted, soaked,
willed itself to hail. Morning forgotten,
I drew myself closed within the gray, startled
by bolts of lightning on nearby pines.  Hunched
down, arms around knees, head bowed, hurting.
I felt the wings on my back lose their flight.
 

27 thoughts on “The Butterfly and the Hail Storm

  1. Hey Sarah

    Don’t know how you bumped into me but visiting your blog and seeing this beautiful picture and a poem to match it was a lovely experience.

    Cheers
    Rex.

  2. Hello Sarah – beautiful – the transition from the observer of the bright morning to the observed – the storm crushed butterfly – or was it the observer in the butterfly personified – It Pained my soul.

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