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Show The Butterfly Scroll An old army friend sent me a Chinese butterfly scroll easy and winding like wind taken from ash green jade. A piece of twine binds him and I roll him in my hands as the scholars do; I feel him wing to wing a monarch who takes the form of air. Softly he moves in my palm and we drift away together high among supple branches and wisps of cloud. I move with my brother butterfly, floating and turning, flow thru schools of insects as a storm of falling leaves. Air currents sweep us past reflections of willow and aspen; rapid but not with motion we glide. Elements, a part of the world. On a faint bending twig we rest together, looking down on the huge drifting shadows. |