Butterfly Dreaming

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The butterfly is dreaming wingful dreams

Where it is waiting on the warming stone.

The stone is less important than the streams

Of light that play on paths where he has flown.

The streams and paths are less important than

The visions in his mind.  He dreams of things

That prophets do not know.  If Freud could scan

Those visions being fanned by wafts of wings,

No nightmares, only beauties would be there.

The reveries of butterflies are pure

As orange blossom petals in the air,

As nectar in a gold flute’s embouchure.

  The butterfly belongs to dreaming sites

    With many lenses sifting inner lights.