Poem #8-March of the Monarchs

The fanciful monarch butterflies spring,
lifting their wings, seeking connection to light,
soaring above spectators waiting
to witness their journey of life,
that moment when they first take flight,
along the dirt path of the Transvolcanic Plateau

of Mexico.  Wishful children standing on a plateau
of dreams, tickled by tiny hopeful feet tapping springy
feelers on fingers, like watching imagination fly
by on wings.  Eyes dancing with sparkling lights
of expressions, like budding colors of wildlife.
Butterflies rushing frazzled wings weighed

down by heavy bodied rain drops.  Finding their way
with genetic force, like an actor to a platform.
Witnessing smears of orange and black, falling lifeless
along a muddy pass, with blades of greening sprigs
of grass, searching for milkweed to lighten
up their grayed graveled roads of humming cars flying

past their thrashing wings.  Instinct without flighty
desires, whisking them through the weighty
winds of California, gumption guides them like a lighthouse
through the darkness.  Migrating to the high planes
of Canada, setting sights each spring,
determined every March and April, laying lives

along each showy milkweeds bract. Like lively
marching monarchs struggling for survival, flitting
by predators crouching in eucalyptus trees ready to spring.
Sleeping collected like clustered grapes, evading harm’s way,
their strong hearts prayers at dark plainly
for pursuing a roost and keeping warm on star lit

nights.  Soaring by day with streams of air lightly
flowing beneath their wings, a lifeline
carrying them through their fading youth, like a plane’s
pilot hastening impatient passengers over fleeting
destinations.  Departed ancestors’ visions weigh
heavy on butterfly hearts continuing through Colorado Springs.

Butterflies lightly flow by each year like flittering
flowers in bloom, seeking life and waiting
to roost on a plateau in Canada each spring.