Introverting * Over thinking

Frequently counted blessings

are laid on butterfly's wings,

in themselves powerful speeches.

 

The thin body arises from its knees

with thumbs up, and a restless eye of beholder

wanders.

 

Gloomy winds brush across rainbows,

persisting to break leaves.

It tends to be colder but greener.

 

And obvious is instability of this forecast

though sweet song is made of its shades.

Now background crumbles again, explodes.

 

Coastal areas of the mind, under skies with lost heaven

elsewhere, shelters scream with madness

for the sake of their habitat.

 

Arguments at the top of a tree,

scary, tangled hair of bright spells

are spinning round each others. Repainting

worries of the forgetful soul.

 

They struggle to stay alight.

Inside the same turbine of time, same reasoning lies.

Grains of sand and butterflies, paper like

deserts and routes of wonder.