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(she moves like a) butterfly |
It was the fluttering that got to me—
tiny wings gently straining against
the walls containing them, a warm cocoon
housing an audacious explorer making her case
a small movement, a soft, subtle maneuver
only slightly visible, a traced contention
beneath a taut fallible shelter
no mistake this, no graven error born
of careless behavior, no thoughtless action
this tiny fauna in quiet crusade of life
uncertainties flown, youthful determinations
established, immature hands caress in frightened
acceptance this embryonic petitioner
it was the fluttering that got to me
copyright 2013
Alicia
Winski |
