On turning 24 – Summer 2016

 

butterfly silhouette

 

I am not so young that summers startle me.

No more, me sprawling under the wide sun

Simply in awe it was there: no more the free

Uninhibited flailing, once wet by a water gun.

 

But I’m not so old that this is old to me.

Buddleias burst with fluttering, in the gown

Of each fresh sunlight’s start, a coterie

Of admirals and cabbage whites drift down;

 

As it is for them, this day is new to me,

As blue and green as when this world began.

Older, perhaps: but young, enough, to see

Faces in clouds, a life in a lifespan.

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