Serendipity with the unfurling of wings
butterflies awaken in inkwell’s bloom
once a chrysalis now stitches in air
with a flutter of commas
on petal and things
a painted lady of syntax
leaving no shadow
each syllable a metamorphosis
in the quietness of the yew
tremblng in the morning’s light
settling between stanzas
on the nose of little Lord Fauntleroy








