Sometimes, in a quest for aimless flight,
and no more responsibility for a short while,
to be a temporary butterfly, would be joyous,
as I could flutter in my vibrant colors
of sky blue, goldenrod, and black,
over the tops of swaying weeping willows.
Just for a moment, I'd alight on an amazed
and flutter among the honeysuckle vines,
sharing my bliss with the busy hummingbirds
that faithfully fly from flower to flower.
And when the noonday sun passes high
over the ivy covered white wooden arch,
I'd fold my wings closed, to sleep
in the cool June eventide,
just as the fireflies begin to enchant
with their nightly dance.
No, don't let the hour arrive,
when, again, I'd be a worry worn human,
I haven't quite finished my coveted time
of liberty in such an immortal garden as this.