Yesterday I watched the slow, arcing flutter and flight of a monarch butterfly across the pasture. It was a small burst of golden-orange that passed above all the grass and the asters, reveling in the bright sunlight.
I was fascinated with the effortlessness with which it appeared to buoy itself across the strong breezes that were blowing. It was one with the wind and flowers and the autumn afternoon.
Monarch of Autumn
How gracefully the autumn breeze is yours,
As are the sun and all the lissome flowers
Laughing on the hilltop; autumn pours
Its wealth upon your golden wings in showers,
With it, scale by scale, imbues your flight
In all its riches of late sunshine glowing:
Tawny afternoon in golden light
And sunset soft above the blossoms blowing,
Tumbled underneath your fragile wings.
How gracefully the afternoon lifts ever
Upward underneath you; autumn swings
Below; you rest upon it, no endeavor,
Only arc of flight that pauses, drifts,
So wealthy you among sweet autumn’s gifts.