just know the act of eating.
They offer no thanks
When the rain is full
of ghosts. Cold gems come falling,
tapping foliage.
A butterfly girl
knows no rest, no warmth, no thanks...
still the insects chew
Upon shining leaves
gathered in the blowing rain,
by hands, pale and cold.
Still, the keeper knows
her charges, someday, will show
appreciation.
When wings are unfurled
and a riot of color
lifts into the sky.
-Kristen Gilpin, 2016
of ghosts. Cold gems come falling,
tapping foliage.
A butterfly girl
knows no rest, no warmth, no thanks...
still the insects chew
Upon shining leaves
gathered in the blowing rain,
by hands, pale and cold.
Still, the keeper knows
her charges, someday, will show
appreciation.
When wings are unfurled
and a riot of color
lifts into the sky.
-Kristen Gilpin, 2016
