Cosmic dust clings to wings in flight,
go-betweens on celestial missions,
performing delicate nuptial rites
involving fields of space and time.
Butterflies seek the tree of life
as souls adhere to the tree of light;
their visual grace notes arc, alight;
leaflike wings, sun-motes collide.
Once, I saved a butterfly.
Snatched from feline jaws at play
and the mandibles of countless ants
assembled to divide the prey,
with a sky-blue wingtip torn away
it rose to a twig for sanctuary.
I sensed a miniscule heart pulsate
ethereal joy in all creation,
bestowing on me - vicarious, heavy -
a butterfly-moment's eternity...