SONG OF MY BUTTERFLY (poem for Day 12 #audiomo)
Song of my Butterfly
No one heard the song of the butterfly
not even my mother,
my brothers,
nor the dog-walker
who strode by our garden
and allowed his Bernese Mountain Dog
to pee all over my butterfly’s buddleia.
No one noticed the sigh of my Painted Lady
as she mated with the neighbour’s Painted Man
– not even my wife,
nor our local parish priest
who discouraged kissing on Sundays.
No one found the egg the butterfly laid
on the hollyhock
that grew from the seed
that fell from the beak
of my favourite thrush
until the caterpillar consumed her shell
seduced by one of the red hot pokers.
No one cried tears for the butterfly
that flapped its wings in Cork
and caused a Great Wall in China to collapse.
If only one person knew the song of my butterfly
in time to sing a lullaby
that echoed from sky to sky,
we might have paid more attention to biosciences.
We might have been saved from the consequences.