Nearness

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Tim
seeks me
in the garden

small
white
butterfly

always
hovering
nearby

Ghost
that I glimpse
from the side of my eye

Darting through blossoms
resting on leaves
Taking advantage of sunshine and breeze

Pointing out a shapely cloud
waiting on my mailbox
inquisitive antenna cocked

Reminding me
as mortality
rages on

death
is not
the final stop

 

18 Replies to “Nearness”

  1. I’m surprised to see a long poem … I can only imagine why here you write a poem with a lot of words: you tell us about death and someone who is still in your garden…

    I like a lot both photo and words, thinking to my deads, my butterflies, my nearnesses … Thank you Catherine

  2. This is beautiful; your words, the photo they hang on, the image of the placement of your stanzas. Amazing. I see these white moths all the time here. Even when they blend into the scenery, they are welcome pollinators. That looks like Cleome.

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