Butterfly Eyes By David Smith

Butterfly Eyes A warm wind wafted the butterfly over the hilltop Its legs outstretched touched down with ease, All morning long it had sailed the breeze, Now a time for a rest, just a short stop. It settled on a low sparse bush of yellow, The air too paused for breath that morn The sun warmed wings of gold and brown, Nature stilled, the only sound a bulls distant bellow. Through compound scores of panes it gazed Languidly surveying its habitat, the land around, Down slopes of swaying grass, where blooms wild abound To distant shore, sea, surf and blue sky of haze. The earth beneath laid still and heavy Gently heating under sun’s firey glare, Bees droned, beetles walked, he did not care: Eyes defocused, body warmed, - butterfly reverie. No man to see or heart to beat, No person present to have a view. No memory made of this for you, Only creature of wings so fair now deep asleep. Time ripened on its own sweet terms, Spark stirred drowsy insect back to day, Feeling refreshed and pleased with its short stay On bush of yellow, in soil that burns. A gust unbidden bore him off again, Wings worked their light magic flight Across the hill, across the field of some soul’s sight. A moment gone, a pause to see a butterfly’s way.