The primary mistake has been
Denying the need of a simpleton
Throwing chaf to blind the fool
Who should have been the rule
–
‘Cause it’s brighter there with him
Not dark or cloudy
He lays, his feet up in the field
Just him- not two, not many
–
Looks into blades of grass
Slender in new sheathing
And allows the slow
Measure of his own breathing
–
It would have been better
I think now of him
To weather loss
With less within
Better to lay and look
At the pattern of a leaf
As if from a book
Than look into grief
–
Leave him now then
If you can leave him alone
For it’s too late to stay
To make sure he gets home
The sun now deepens its color
Is a clear red orb
The latex drips from the milkweed
…
The morning haze fills
The basin and finds him gone
The sun scrubs it into day
Though it’s done nothing wrong
–
Those going there later
Tell of the stark white
Milkweeds thumbed open husk
And the monarch stepping
There in its joy
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