The Butterfly

A butterfly

Quite white & too tiny

Hatched on an early spring day

I watched her master the art of flight

Over the deck on a late afternoon

Her chaotic flight plan

Rabbit leaps 


Two things

Caught my attention

She entered into the world alone

Flying circles as though she were lost

And in our half-hour of company

I never once saw her

Wings rest


Hers is the day

Ours is the lifetime

Her restlessness our appetite

Her lonely quest our long pilgrimage

Her beauty our transparency

Her short pursuit

Our long quest



It seems as though

Life is entirely of one piece

Differentiated only by its proportions

The price of our inattention

To the littlest thing

Is ignorance


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to The Butterfly

  1. you are a gifted thinker, Peter


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