A butterfly's wing

swiped a vortex,

curling and invisible —

a teaspoon of late-morning air.

"You could do anything", she said.

Which stopped you cold.

Breaking through

to an innocent reverence.

Self-love once stunted

by too much water,

seized anchor in fertile ground.

Lifting, face to the sun,

rising cool and

untarnishable, impervious.

Amid unnumbered droplets,

time-rendered unreal.

Pattering away still,

the adoration of strangers

falls like background music.

What inspirations?

What purposes?

What outcomes?

A fuse — crackling, insistent,

alights.

To brainstorm,

to define

in pictured imaginings,

to sketch on napkins,

to conjure vapor heroes,

told in stories unfolded,

imagined to full flowering,

alive and enduring.

To expand, to compress,  

and with a nod to urgency.

Facing that mortality of carbon,

these ideas — tumbled,

till only polished

diamonds quiver

with joyful futures.

The best puppies

of this litter,

you'll name and raise.

The rest, to worthy homes

carrying still your name.



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