Butterflies

The heat in the sky is changing
rising like the midnight tide
silently, slowly, steadily
shifting to reach it's peak
and in this transition phase
new life abounds

the white jagged peaks that punctuated the skyline
like exclamation points to the landscape's eternal sentence
have begun to soften
into commas and ellipses
leading you on
to the next part of the storyline
you lean in to their newly green lips
awaiting their secrets

Snowy banks have melted into promises of energy
willingly winding wide set roads
of rivers rushing
streams shushing
and brooks blushing
filling up like color in an adolescent's cheeks
skipping skating skittering skilled skeletons
that trace their way like vivid varicose veins
racing for a finish line that's just out of reach
hurrying home to the sea
that accepts all with open honest salt water fingertips

water that percolates into the warm soil
earth that radiates life into tiny green shoots
who have the bravery to poke their tips into the light
to be curled up in comfort with the shimmering rays of spring sun
and lulled to sleep by the moon and her tinkling teardrops of stars
that look more like holes to heaven
or angels' halos seen from a distance with eyes not strong enough
to fully see things that are beyond our comprehension

thick twinkling night lights that are mimicked by the soft pink buds
jasmine flowers that perfume the air
until all are drunk off the sweet savory scent
petals that flutter in the breeze like a little girl's skirt
swaying along to the same melody as the butterflies
that drift like little scraps of silk
accent marks of color in otherwise invisible air
flurries of shimmering blue spirals
black and orange winged ocean like waves
only pausing to sip the nectar of the moment
the sweetest moments in life

They may take a moment to alight upon a fingertip
or the edge of a mind
but are easily born away with the breeze
that is filled with a new warmth
wind that is whispering wild wishes
and quiet promises
of the next dawn.