Through glass doors
In my rented house’s ground floor
I lounge on my sofa watching butterflies
On a Saturday morning
Flitting over and under verdant leaves
and in and out of the single unkempt deciduous tree
at the end of the austere and narrow, sun kissed garden.
Pairs and trios come and go
Circle around and are gone from sight
Like children chasing each other in the fields
during holidays with endless laughter and squeals.
If you are lucky you may
See a handful of them
Zigzagging like tipsy arrows
At different locations of the tree, they play
Lighting the tree up as they go.
The occasional loud vehicle on the road
does not distract the little insects
As they go about their serious business.
Now and then alighting gently on the freshly mown grass
Before taking off again, then in and out of view they pass.
For a moment, I see no life stirring, before a handsome black-and-white nectar feeder goes skipping across leaves
Like a pebble on water with ease
and a pair of white butterflies
engrossed with each other
enter and leave the scene
in well coordinated flight.
Oh I love the sun, garden, tree and butterflies!
I love them even more when they all coincide.
Give me a Saturday with nowhere to go
And the identity of the remaining ingredients you already know.
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