le papillon petit fou

by thelittlefool

She was elusive.  She was today.  She was tomorrow.
She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower,
the flitting shadow of an elf owl.
We did not know what to make of her.
In our minds we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly,
but the pin merely went through and away she flew.

–Jerry Spinelli

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