Pastel the sky and land
with green pointillist patterns in the fore
one black crow on the tree
that's all that I can see today
as the sun gets up

we're promised thunder later on
but most things are lying still
only leaves on the hanging branches
slightly sway
prelude to this hot day

Margaret Ann Waddicor 7th June 2016

Beauty of the wings,
Swaying freely through the air,
In the day of spring,
Without an ounce of care

Swiftly cutting through the breeze,
Colorful and shy,
Caught the attention of me,
Now locked in the eye,

The feeling of striking gold,
Arm out, hoping for a land,
To nurture, cherish and hold,
Colors shot to my hand,

Slowly to the tip of the thumb,
The colors shined most up close,
My heart froze and become numb,
Butterflies is what I have I suppose.

Swash arises with immeasurable strength
Cascading against a buckling hull
Lost screams echo incoherently in a dark abyss
White embers engulf the universe
As the world cracks in two

Waves distort life and death with gentle balance
Bestowing reincarnation against the odious blue kraken
Rolling innocently upon the great pale sea
Striding to quench a perishing thirst
Embarking on my final journey.