Chasing Butterflies
Chasing the flitting feather on a blue sky,
a laugh and bouncing trot of a child
chasing butterflies
This is it –- this is our witnessing God’s greatness;
a fleeting moment,
elusive like the butterfly in its
feather-floating dance
—Is this it?
All the live murmur of a summer’s day;
the moment of pause
reflecting upon one’s contingent thrown-ness
existing
but on the
narrow strip of sun-scorched sand
between childhood and pretend-to-know age
racing
toward us like frost and long shadows
the ineffable sublimity of beauty
in the laugh and trot of a child
chasing butterflies
chasing butterflies.