Habitation

The way the monarch butterfly moves
face forward through the world
is a small miracle—

how she skips on air
generous with herself
giving first to the leaf then the flower.

She transforms me from caterpillar
into one who flies
arms open, eyes wide

a child marveling at creation—
the smoothness of an acorn
the cloud carnival overhead.

I wish I was milkweed
so she would dance on my limbs
touch me with her tongue

carry me quietly off
to that branch
she calls home.

Published by asaur