Into my deep sadness he came bouncing
from the woods — a slate-blue butterfly
with a thread of crimson on each wing,
flittering on the weathered dock-boards
like a pennant windy with the most cheerful news.
He fluttered about me, dime-tinier,
merry as money, perching on knees
as if they were gay as Noah’s mountain,
lighting among my upturned toes
as if for sweetnesses, as if they were good flowers
— until I have understood his coming!
Though I have given all I have
and you still will not love me,
I am coming on stumps to you, holding
out bouquets of these poor sunny feet and toes!