Wednesday, April 01, 2015


Long curly dishwater hair waves in the breeze
She pads along the sidewalk net in hand.
Not a fisherman’s net –
long and flowing,
one that you would cast into the sea.

On the contrary,
her small tanned hand wraps around
the handle of a dainty pink ,
tear-shaped, perfect-for-her-size net –
one she hopes to trap a fluttering
beautiful Butterfly in before long.

She doesn’t care what color
as long as she can bring a smile
to the little one that
trails behind in his
red and black web-covered
spider pajamas.

I find it ironic that he,
who is clad in such a deadly snare
wants to seek out the beauty of
a butterfly and snare it too.

Chatter emanates from down below,
“I wish I had a house this big,”
a little voice sighs as they pass
clone after clone of stucco mud-brown
houses with false dormers.

His sister keeps walking,
“I wish we could do this every day,”
“…What every day?” the little wanna-be-spider-man asks.
‘Not have to go to school,” was her reply.

A few more steps,

bodies fade away.
Their pattering feet and voices
linger behind.
 I hope they catch their butterfly.