I've been raising monarch butterflies for the past 3 weeks. This one hatched yesterday only to have a deformed, split proboscis (straw-like feeding tube that sucks nectar). Sadly, without a way to draw nourishment, she will die. I had just read a poem, Black, White and Blue by John Blase and felt inspired by his words and thoughts surrounding 'the dissonant chord left unresolved.' This beauty that once defined hope and rebirth, is now caught in hopelessness. She is the beautiful, 'dissonant chord... left unresolved.'
John Blase writes beautiful things at The Beautiful Due
I'm joining friends at d'verse poets Open Link Night