THE BUTTERFLY


Floating into my hand
Fragile and mysterious
Slowly flapping wings of gold and black
In a moment frozen

She dances on fingers
Not wanting to move
Such beauty rarely found
And almost never held

Then as it began
She lifts into the air
Quickly her wings
Flutter up and down

There is magic in time
Transient thoughts of joy
The butterfly brings soft
Wonder into the world


Michael V Hechtman