Where the Butterflies Go

As the butterflies are beckoned
when fall’s frost appears
I will know when to fly
and forsake these fears.

As the southbound monarchs
set off their fireworks show
I will find inspiration in
the diamond-glinted snow.

When the trilliums come to carpet
this old forest floor
I’ll be wading in the wildflowers
along some foreign shore.

For when spring brings her wisdom
only then will I know
what I am to become;

where the butterflies go.