I brought the butterfly outside

I brought the butterfly outside

she was in the shower this morning

must have spent the night in there

she got wet when I turned the water on

a bit numb, a bit too blind

and she was circling round the drain

Glued to the surface tension of the water

as it happens to silk-winged airy fairies

I put her outside on a rock to dry

careful careful

to father sun

But I am not sure if it works

If she is still there or was for long

If a bird, sharp-eyed and feathery-quick has taken her

or if she flew off

suddenly

in a whirl of dry silk and glimmer fabric

I guess that is what God was doing with me

a thousand times already:

Fishing me out of the drain

putting me on a rock to dry

and a thousand times

the wild birds of the ordinary mind

carried me away

before my wings were dry enough

to fly