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Looking at a flower
fresh at sunrise
and a little butterfly
hovering around –
I wonder
who is the sun
and who is the planet
in their tiny solar system?
The words they exchange
hardly man can make out,
they date for a brief moment,
yet the flower its treasure pours out,
and the coloured creature in delight
hugs the flower, rocks it
and carries the pollens far
to where the flower can’t go…
Life travels in small steps,
new buds open their eyes on new plants,
new butterflies arrive to romance…
the chain of life remains unbroken,
as among the kids their secrets
do the round without breaking the link!
Is creation a child’s game, too!
Linked by innocence and trust,
smooth flowing as a stream
without any sudden or abrupt halt?
Is the brief romance
between a flower and the butterfly
a triangulation point to map infinity?
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