There was a butterfly that came off our Christmas tree
tricked by the central heating into thinking that it was spring
in the scented wood of the displaced fir tree
standing now in our living room to bring
in the festive airs of the season, decorated by baubles,
tinsel, loaded with trinkets of yesteryear’s foibles
the paquet floor
of its chrysalis.
The children were enchanted at first
its beauty added to the magic of the moment and then, dismay!
December’s winter is not for buttrflies
Freed into nature outside
it would not survive
how fragile its gossamer wings
alongside the gaudy wrappings,
the trappings of Christmastide!