At the Butterfly Garden

When my dreaming stopped, I was face to face
with a lavender bee balm blossom, its perfume sharp
and green, and, of all things, a hummingbird moth
drinking in its nectar, then floating to the next one
through the moist summer air, here beneath tall pines
with whipped cream clouds floating in the blue sky.
What are the odds? Who could imagine such a world!

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