Waiting for the Butterfly

I have a new digital camera
but no patience at being very still
for very long.  No capture of wings
is possible without a blind and much time.
I have taken the camera with me
in making a circuit of my garden,
but the elusive butterflies
go aloft when my shadow leans in the sun.
When I return from a postal pickup,
at my deep-well lilies are the butterflies,
swallowtails painted by a child of Miro.
I run for the camera, again too late.
I am philosophical. What would I shoot?
Static image out of focus at best.
I could try the camcorder another day
but these dream butterflies will have passed on.

Poems by Virginia Walker

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Virginia S. Walker, PhD
P. O. Box 1032, Shelter Island Heights, NY 11965
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