Masons Road

joy poetry

MORPHED

The blissful butterfly seems unconcerned,

while sipping nectar, flitting with its mate,

but it remembers everything it learned

when caterpillar seemed its only fate.

When it could merely inch along and feed

to saturate its flesh with pungency

of bitter leaves – a deft defense, indeed,

from predators from whom it could not flee –

it literally was embittered by

its appetite and all that it consumed.

It never dreamt that one day it would fly.

While lacking wings, how could it have presumed?

Recalling its state before pupation,

its pulsing wings signal celebration.