The way the golden fragile dotted border
flits and glides around the trees,
you’d think it was alive.
And you might be right.
But then again, is existence a map
or a lepidopterist’s net
or just another way to breathe?
This was written as part of National Poetry Writing Month 2021, sparked by Jesse Miksic’s triomyth prompt; my second random Wikipedia article was about the Mylothris yulei, an African butterfly.