Morpho
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| Image by Vera Kratochvil |
Colours flapping in the sun, it came.
Lightly, as just brought by the wind,
as an idyllic and improbable idea.
It alighted right where the tree bark split
and opened its wings in blossom.
The wind stood still in awe
while bright and beauty tainted life in blue.
Bittersweetly, the creek whispered:
such hues live briefly,
not enough to paint a second december.
And yet, fair creek,
it did.
With beauty and poems,
with tomorrows
bathed in the reminiscences of bright blue wings
in a summer afternoon.
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