APRIL 12, 2018

Monarch Chronicles


From inside the prairie the last day of spring.

We walk through the old hip high plantings

seeking the whorled and swamp milkweed.

We push aside the waves of prairie like water.

A single rattlesnake master among the spiderwort,

among the goldenrod, the common St. John’s,

stands as sharp as a head of green needles.

As we lean down to see if it is flowering

a monarch flits by at ten feet silent as a thief,

prairie dust snagged by luck on its black legs.