I wish I could float/

away/

on butterfly wings/

melt slowly in the Sun/

and become/

like liquid/

caramel/

sweet and sticky/

drizzled randomly in fields where Summer ends/

and Fall begins, briskly/

bearing gifts of decay in a brilliant cornucopia/

of swaying stalks and rustling petals/

that swirl/

into another season/

another dawn/

as I transform/

painfully/

violently/

beautifully/

and the butterfly flutters/

through the gaping hole/

left/

in her cocoon/....