The pulse of a thousand blue-winged butterflies

The taste of mist floats silent
all around, plush
as a cashmere ocean.
Peace and comfort spreads
like a mantle over the road ahead.
The windshield wiper blade
pushes aside the damp scent of rain
like an idle hand waving away
an unreconciled sweetness
as gentle solitude alights again and again
like the pulse of a thousand blue-winged butterflies
drawn to the singular blossom of home.


© 2004, 2009 Lorena Lobita Wolfman