Either one would tarry,
to perch, if even briefly,
atop exquisite beauty,
aiming to sample nature’s sweet, sticky juice.
For when the summer transitions into winter,
farewell, magnetically fragrant hosts;
farewell, fanciful muse.
But before I bid you adieu,
press into flight
as both human and butterfly
endeavour to laze under
the sun’s energizing light.
Time is of the essence
for the mystic Aphrodite’s journey.
it sees an end,
returning her to her origin,
like all enlightened manifestations of Divinity.
There’s freedom in harking nature’s summons,
though you may only perceive the heart’s whispering
or mistake it for a butterfly’s fluttering wings.