4th Version


A speck of vivid,

I see it follow fitfully in zigs

Until it lands on my hand,

All quivering color.


When I dare to breathe God’s breath,

Reciting as I exhale outwards,

A poem quickens and quivers,

Mimicking this butterfly.


Borne, hovering near,

The poem awaits a merciful heart

In one who will cup it to their ear

To hear a song I meant for thee.


It is a clue to me.  Decipher it

Like the butterfly’s stripe, the iridescent dot:

A mysterious progenitor cryptically beckons

We follow its harbinger into a river of grass.


Thus cued, as butterfly kindred crowds the sky,

We seek the heartbreaker,

So sure it is God in a guise.  Beguiled,

Soon we become an incurable sleuth.


Franciscan Retreat Center

Prior Lake, Minnesota


August 12th, 13th, 28th-31st, September 9th, 2016

Revision:  March 15, 2017

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