On
the wood rail of this wood deck
Question Mark butterflies come rest,
Only one almost every evening,
All the same one, I would have guessed,
But some had bird bitten wings,
While others wings were fresh and bright.
I wonder why they come wandering
Yet always on that one spot light,
(Perhaps some scientist could say).
I’ve wondered why I’d only seen
One butterfly at any time,
So I’ve watched, but there’s never been
Two there, tussling or together.
Always
one lonely Question Mark
Waiting as evening moves toward dark.
