butterflies are free

my good friend brandon and his family gave me a butterfly garden
for my 53rd birthday this year.

today, one month later, i released the beautiful
PAINTED LADIES

the butterfly's loping flight
carries it through the country of the leaves
delicately, and well enough to get it
where it wants to go, wherever that is,stopping
here and there to fuzzle the damp throats
of flowers and the black mud; up
and down it swings, frenzied and aimless; and sometimes

for long delicious moments it is perfectly
lazy, riding motionless in the breeze on the soft stalk
of some ordinary flower

the god of dirt
came up to me many times and said
so many wise things, i lay
on the grass listening
to his dog voice,
crow voice
frog voice; now,
he said, and now,
and never once mentioned  forever,


for years and years i struggled
just to love my life. and then
the butterfly
rose, weightless, in the wind.
"don't love your life
too much," it said, and vanished
into the world.