Monarch Migration

I hurried 

     from five blocks down the street

          equipped with a jar

               and father’s fishnet

so much orange

was more than I expected that August day

the white of milkweed in the field

     fluttered with brilliance of orange

          a cluster of milkweed and butterflies

two or three 

     clung to a single stem

while some rode others

     on their backs

          sun upon their wings 

and few would fly

     as they sucked a clover flower

I stood and picked

     as though they were poppies

          to fill my jar

and only when

     next to the coolness of glass

               did those wings start to pound

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Monarch Migration