Poem of the Week 45

Un Bel Di

Butterflies and moths remember their lives as caterpillars. —Harper’s

I well remember having all those feet.
I learned to walk at quite an early age.
Just one before the other; it was neat.
The trick was not to think; they would engage.

Oh life was lovely, lazy, eating leaves.
Avoiding, if one could, the birds above.
Sometimes a friend was snatched (one weeps, one grieves)
But new ones would appear and, with them, love.

That’s when I met the lissome, furry Katie
And fantasized our legs all wrapped together.
When I grew up I knew she’d be my matey,
Our legs entwined in caterpillar weather.

But she grew up to be a butterfly
And sad to tell you, readers, so did I.

—Edmund Conti