The Butterfly

Marc Chagall

Marc Chagall

The butterfly
white as willow
has found herself
a place in the hyssop
in summer bloom
as blue as cobalt
on evergreen

So confident
she is not seen
at rest there Still
as a pure snow`drop
in a spring breeze
or just careless
about capture

“We make ourselves a place apart
   Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
   Till someone find us really out.” ~ Robert Frost


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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8 Responses to The Butterfly

  1. What a delicate feast!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. there’s a certain beauty to naivete


  3. You really captured a moment well. Love the pull on my senses and imagination.


  4. Thank you, LuAnn … Glad you enjoyed the poem!


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