The killing frosts have not yet come
This gentle October,
Yellow butterflies—refugees from shorn alfalfa fields
Dance across the stubble like whirling leaves.
Butterflies and autumn leaves intermingle
Indistinguishable in the failing sun.
Twilight hovers, a pause between day/night
Life/death, inhalation/exhalation.
We experience eternity
For less than a moment
Breathe again
Then move on.
Published in Poems