The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Nancy Kenney Connolly

HIGH TIDE 

And suddenly, as if the air is charmed,
a monarch rises from the undertow
of gravity to sail to Mexico
on whitecaps of warm air.  You stare, disarmed
by orange, muted by a startling swarm
of syncopated wings, the to and fro
of flutter.  Face to face with vertigo
could you reset your threshold of alarm
and, catapulted by a wind god's gale,
trespass light-hearted on the cosmic lawn?
Could you be orange too, a whimsy blown
to cumulus heights?  The butterflies don't quail.
As they ignite the sky with sparks of dawn
will you dare singe your wings on the unknown?





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