Drunk Butterflies

Butterflies inebriated, sloshed
spiraling upward from pools of water
holding fermented foliage we
passed by while canocing the Neuse.
Orange, white, yellow, blue, black, brown
speckled, swallow-tailed, patterned,
mottled, webbed flash and quiver,
fluttering fine, ffy, pit painted lady mating ritual.
Wrapping shyness with wing, undercover, under
folding blanket over lover.
Liquid courage emboldens beginnings, above
happenstance provision, easy prey for
prowling bird, turtle, fish, crawdad, frog.
The beauty of it all
in sunlightened wing shining, falling forward and
back, up and down. Frenzy fantastic
color gentle, feathered wing too delicate to touch
without removing glide barb. Metamorphosed
just for this day
a metaphor, relational,
for all that is good and will be.
Butterfy girl wraps her hair into braided wing
faps for future. Turns herself
into the softest touch, lifting and rising
everything around her, all that is good-
this is good-
something they do so much
better than the Human Beings
in natural accordance with traditional way
of the butterfly creation racing,
occurring in this way, for her and those following her.
Kama, kamama. Catch her
in the morning and
again at night, at midday she just floats by breezing.