Monarch Poem by Frank Avon

What I see
are the leaves
of a butterfly weed

growing near the street,
sprouting regal
blossoms,

crimson and yellow,
and sprightly sprigs
with red buds

in its upper reaches.
And nestled among
those sprigs,

completely at ease,
like a fetus
in its mother's womb

or a puppy
curled up
in its bed,

or any one of us
asleep, resting our backs
by flexing our knees,

it lies,
the larva,
black and gold and white striped.

One has to wonder,
doesn't one?
if he may not be dreaming

of the epic flight
on which he will embark
in his season,

in his rugged beauty,
seeking another Eden,
the most notable

of Lepidoptera.
the triumphant

Monarch.