Psalm 119

A poem by Jonathan Wooding

O Lord, thou hast dealt graciously with thy servant

Butterflies are happy for our garden.
Something coppery there, a Small Heath,
and a Wood White skipping, luciform.

Cold air through the open window, and bright sun
on rain-drenched grass, apple-crowded.
I’m waiting inside on God’s unsettling;
my mind is damaged goods, a broken wheel.

And just when it could all be literally scriptural
a Red Admirable emerges. What about that?
Let her flitter and fizzle, and gallivant.

Sophistical butterflies – good heavens! –
your quick-time motions and courtships errant
have done the trick. See! The Small Heath, the Wood White,
the gallant Red Admirable; their good timing.

---

Comments

A lovely poem about the uplift from the brownian motion beauty of flitting butterflies . Thanks for writing it .

By Neil M on 8th December 2020 - 15:10

---

Please login to add a comment