THE MAN WITH THE BUTTERFLIES ON
At the end of September, when the nights are much cooler
And most of the tourists are gone,
You might catch a glimpse, at the break of the day,
Of the man with the butterflies on.
The Monarchs, they say, must find their way
To a valley in Old Mexico.
To winter in there, in that climate most fair,
They suddenly get up and go.
But strong off-shore breezes drive them off course,
And force them into the waves.
Then, washed back on shore, to migrate no more,
It is these that the beachcomber saves.
He scoops them up quickly. They cling to his back
And walk up and down on each arm.
‘Til twenty or thirty are stretching their wings
Now saved from the sea’s threatened harm.
When they’ve covered his reach, he walks ‘cross the beach
To a quiet spot sheltered by dune.
He gives each a push, toward a bayberry bush,
Where wet wings will dry very soon.
So if you rise early to walk on the shore,
When all of the tourists are gone,
You might see him there, with wings in his hair,
The man with the butterflies on.
Ron Bovasso, 62, of Wilmington, is a construction manager. He has worked in construction since college. He earned a Law Degree when he was age 50, and is published at smashwords.com . This is his first foray into the circle of senior poets in our SPL contests, and we hope to get to know him better and to see more of his delightful work. His astrological sign is Aries.