So it’s official now. You’re leaving.
This is the last day of your stay.
I understand that you must go.
If my eyes glisten as I walk beside the wetlands,
it is only because you are so beautiful.
If I sigh as your winds blow through my hair,
it is only to join the poplars in their song.
If I pluck an aster and hold it to my heart,
it is to press the essence of you into my being
that I may feel your warmth when the cold winds howl.
I will drink your clouds this day
and breathe the fragrance of you.
And when you send that one, last monarch butterfly
to cross my path, I will stand without moving
and watch, until, like you, it disappears.