Chasing Butterflies

time seems to stop when you stand
outside yourself, watching while you
run in slow motion chasing butterflies
with a net, the sun a hot glare in the air

too big and bright to fall into a named
shape of things to come, crickets chirring
loudly, their chorus blending to a soft roar
masking the past with a luminous present

magnified, each leaf and flower a world
alone, almost too much to bear for one
so young and not used to running free of
restrictions, nor yet swept up by life’s
unpredictable permutations.

first published in Time of Singing

also published in GLORY IN THE ORDINARY Chapbook