I Do Not Yearn for Wings
I don’t remember when I developed a fascination with winged creatures, but somewhere along the line birds, especially, got my attention, and I also take special note of dragonflies and butterflies.
I never had the patience to develop an adequate knowledge of the complexities of using a really good camera, and I am mostly contented that my little point-and-shoot Nikon does as much as I need.
Our family makes two annual treks to see butterflies at the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix—Monarchs in the fall, and the spring exhibit of a wonderfully diverse selection of lepidoptera from various locales.
That contained environment allows me to get some pretty decent photos of butterflies, and those will probably show up in this blog from time to time just because I like them.
I also occasionally write poems about winged things.
Herewith one of those offerings—
Photo of hawk on the meme by Stephen Sielaff – Design of poetry meme and photo of hummingbird by John Tarr
I do not yearn for wings myself,
Feel no longing to escape these clay-bound feet;
But my eyes soak in the paths of flight,
Treasuring up the flashing course of hummingbird,
Hovering of dragonfly,
Yellow sulfur’s silent drift
And thermal-riding soar of hawk.
Mockingbird’s exultant leap from topmost branch
And verdin’s cheerful navigation of his leafy world
Feed the heart
And lend another kind of wing.
I do not yearn for wings myself—
Theirs are enough.
At the Butterfly Pavilion
Diversely patterned and colored—
Julias, Queens, Zebras, Swallowtails—
The urge to catalog is strong
But one needs not to miss the feel
Of air alive with mariposa,
The wonder in a child’s eyes
When head, shoulder, hand
Become for a moment
A butterfly resting place
What lavish joy of God,
Painting on these ephemeral canvases
His wealth of color and gleam—
They toil more than lilies,
But here, as well, Solomon’s array is all outdone