Butterfly blessing

Mourning Cloak, brushfooted,
comes to my outstretched hand;
tremulous
we regard each the other,
while your eyelash feet explore
the whirlpools
of my fingertips.
I love the drama of your wings:
yellow-rimmed cape,
blue stipple sublimely set,
the way you rise to circle
and return
stepping to the trembling palm
I offer you
What's left to say but amen.

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