The Field

In the middle of a field

A monarch butterfly

Sits on a clover

Opening and closing its wings

Swaying the clover

Which hits the one next to it

Which hits the one next to it

And so on and so on

Till the whole field is in motion

 

The center is everywhere

They say

Life pulses out from that

 

I lift my finger

And displace the air

Are the ripples felt

Throughout the universe ?

 

One verse

And if I change a syllable

The whole poem changes

(From  , “Re-entering the Womb of the Goddess”)

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