Little Creature Creator

Wishing I could paint these straggly arms
If it were possible, into 2 semi-transparent sturdy thin yellows
Dotted, veined, and trimmed in ebony
Freely I would prance from each silky petal to the warm powdery center of a daisy
With each nudge of the wind caressing a gentle glide then hurried flap,
Into that guiltless love affair with sweet misty breezes
Tis’ the time in which that bright beamy orb would flicker through my orangey sails
During that awkward, but oh so graceful, zigzag
Perhaps I could be the creature, invited and peered upon in curious wonder,
Landing on a little joyous finger to lick the tiny crystals
With my curly thin tongue, could I even inspire girly spirals and swirls?
Oh, I could find meaning in moments like these—
In-between the purpose and service of pollinating and cocooning—
To be only but a spec of beauty, even if for a little while
And then…one sudden, but glorious…death
As the wind began his departure from my sheaths:
from fresh blossom and birth, kissing my bellowing gust goodbye
Gladly I would fall, long and weaving, to the soil
In my home, where I would have lived an ‘insignificant’ life
with ‘tiny,’ ‘unimportant’ wings, with ‘irrelevant’ affect
Yes, I have desire for this ‘triviality’
Fore, as surely as one cannot help but to stand in awe and be humbled
Discovering the need for breath while gazing on a field of wild flowers—
Swaying in a grassy valley wound between stony mountain-peaks and stray clouds
Tell me, who then could forget…The Butterfly?

Susie E.