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Showing posts from May, 2015

Butterfly

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Fairy of the flowers
with wings of spun glass,
you flit about the grass
and land on my hand.

Small pearls hang in poplars,
honeysuckle perfumes a breeze,
the swallowtail zigzagging--
fairy of the flowers.

Drinking the marigold's mystery,
there are jewels on your body,
you flutter in the air
with wings like spun glass.

When wild strawberries droop
on the woodland trail,
and the rain crow lifts songs,
you flit about the grass.

In shimmering robes of silk
that catch the sunlight,
you fold your wings
and land on my hand.
                       --Brenda Kay Ledford



ODE TO THE IRIS

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You march into May
splashing rainbows on roadbanks,
an emblem of kings;
you outrank the rose.

Clouds float like angels
over fields of wildflowers,
taking your place at spring;
you march into May.

Lifting your face to the sun,
a Monarch butterfly sips nectar
from the crystal fountain
splashing rainbows on roadbanks.

On the heels of tulips,
the iris stands as a sentinel,
keeps time with the drumbeat;
an emblem of kings.

A time to everything,
the mourning dove cooing;
with majesty you flare out
and outrank the rose.
             --Brenda Kay Ledford