(After Mary Oliver)
Who made animals?
Who made nature?
Who made the butterflies?
The butterfly whose red wings flutter on
my face and makes me smile.
The one that licks sugar from my lips,
who is the one who flies into my hand,
her soft wings touch me.
Who gets stuck in the butter and gets
lifted back out.
Her antennas lift up to touch my hand
before she lifts her wings up and flies
away leaving warmth in my hand.
I don’t know when she will come
back,
I don’t know when she will float
away into the afterlife,
I don’t know how to keep flowers from
dying ,
how to not be afraid of the creepy
crawlies in the grass.
What could I have done?
Flowers have to die at some point.
Tell me what is your poem
of nature?
By Grace
