Wings for a day

A tiny white butterfly
           the smallest I’ve ever seen
flutters among the wild flowers
           on a stretch of wasteland
between two railway tracks
           its pale wings gently
paddling the air in which it floats
           from bloom to bloom

Nectar to feed its brief life
           nectar to fuel its brief love
nectar to sustain its brief beauty
           a poem to celebrate the memory

John Lyons