the butterfly angel--By Shelly Blankman--United States

the butterfly angel

in this misty haven from an arctic wind

is the butterfly garden, with wings as

light as flakes, brushing shades of

roses, goldenrods, lilacs, and daffodils

against a frosted canvas window,

you wear your grandpa’s cap,

faded gray and frayed by winters past,

the stale cold running through you even

now, four winters since his death.

a swallowtail’s glass-stained wings

fold like origami, perches on

your cap and stays as if glued by

nectar as you move; your  

laughter bursts like the beach sun.

when it’s time to leave behind your

butterfly in our spring mirage, and return

to snow-capped sidewalks and streets,

you ask me if butterflies are angels,

like the legend says. i see your grandpa

in your dimpled smile and nod.

Shelly Blankman and her husband, Jon, are empty-nesters who live in Columbia, Maryland with their 4 cat rescues. They have two sons Richard, 31, of New York, and Joshua, 30, of San Antonio. Shelly's first love has always been poetry. Her poetry has been published by Ekphrastic: writing and art on art and writing as well as Visual Verse, Silver Birch Press, and Verse-Virtual.