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Stained Glass
Pieces of color
melded together
to form the whole.
Eye-catching
anytime, but
never more than
when the sunlight
streams through.
Fragile beauty
whose loss
would be
shattering.
I had been looking at some stained glass at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. A few days later, I took some pictures of this butterfly. As I was going through the photographs, it occurred to me that the butterfly looked like it was made out of stained glass. These events inspired the poem.
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Lovely. I picked up a dead butterfly on the golf course this week and dropped it into a pot of flowers. It was one that shimmered in blues and tiny dots of gold. Such beauty in such a tiny form.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Letty. That was a lovely gesture. They really are beautiful creatures.
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