Butterfly

The mug on my desk that my sister sent me

says “Social Butterfly.” 

The social part fits. That’s me, maybe 

to a fault? Sometimes. 

But I could never do justice

to the butterfly part.

One of God’s perfect creatures – bright, impossibly

detailed. Resilient, delicate. First choice 

of child artists: scrawl of pink crayons, 

or sidewalk chalk.

A wing of gold Monarch - or maybe blue

on a blossom

is a glimpse of God - sweet 

like my Tortie cat,

soothing with her apple green eyes and surprising 

caramel stripe down her nose. 

Her splashy coat – to me - is the softest, softest peace.

These are God Gifts, Spirit Signs, like shiny 

baubles from a smitten girl dad,

who can’t help but say, “I love you.

My mug, my sister’s confidence in me,  

makes me smile, but I do not have wings to soar 

yet.