Out the window down into feverfew
On petals perched, butterflies there stand
quivering globes of honey-tinted dew
drop sweetly to the cracks of a hand
dusk throws a net onto our yard,
catching insects in their upward ascent
the muddled sound of cicadas is marred
the white stretches stark, her back is bent
to celebrate by picking
the sorrow of blinking
Tags: class poem, feverfew
