Butterfly
A butterfly flutters its wings,
A hurricane stirs.
In the deep blue yonder,
Clouds churn in menacing swirls.
The sleeping winds howl,
At being disturbed,
From peaceful slumber,
By an emperor perturbed,
The darkening storm opens a solitary eye,
Better to see the path of havoc from the sky,
As upon the land,
Its revenge it takes,
And in tempestuous anger,
All pity forsakes.
Beware my friends,
It is not there the story ends.
When you stir a grain of sand,
You alter forever, the lie of the land,
As when a butterfly, flutters its wings,
And the fluted air whistles and sings,
In rising concerto far beyond,
The rippling water of a little pond.
Postscript:
Would that my breath could stir the wind and blow away the clouds!
A hurricane stirs.
In the deep blue yonder,
Clouds churn in menacing swirls.
The sleeping winds howl,
At being disturbed,
From peaceful slumber,
By an emperor perturbed,
The darkening storm opens a solitary eye,
Better to see the path of havoc from the sky,
As upon the land,
Its revenge it takes,
And in tempestuous anger,
All pity forsakes.
Beware my friends,
It is not there the story ends.
When you stir a grain of sand,
You alter forever, the lie of the land,
As when a butterfly, flutters its wings,
And the fluted air whistles and sings,
In rising concerto far beyond,
The rippling water of a little pond.
Postscript:
Would that my breath could stir the wind and blow away the clouds!
1 comment:
Yet another thought provoking piece of prose... a new look at something we all take for granted.
Allan
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