The butterfly flitted as it went on past

Its intent to connect with the plant was cast

It didn’t seem to matter what I did to distract

The butterfly knew it would not react

Then, came the sparrow and it, too, went on

Listening I could hear the bird singing a song

The words were distinct but I could no longer hear

The bird had just drifted too far from my ear

The next thing arrived, it was a snake in the grass

It slithered along, its silence, the pass

The snake made a hiss as forward it went

It moved so slowly, with focused intent

All the creatures were reminders of times from the past

When life was a breeze without a gray cast

And, now, the great vision is too hard to see

What will happen today or what the future will be

What has happened in the now is hard to believe

The locking of time, what it feels like to grieve

We’re not always aware of what we have from a look

The limited view, the cover of a book

The contents of the book are discovered through reading

The author is asking us, sometimes a pleading

Read my story, please read it, from beginning to end

Let the story unfold so you can pretend

Pretend to know what the ending might be

The ending a wonder, what you cannot know or see

It might be a surprise that ends quite happy

It might be a sadness that ends a bit sappy

If written so we can reflect on our lives

The reflection will mirror, becoming archives

Moving through time, we learn to belong

We find salvation in a bird’s song

Do not lose hope, the bird did sing

Hope is the future and what it will bring