I watched the frenzied Monarchs
Flying, flitting hurriedly
From behind my steering wheel
And later on my porch
And in between
The
Somewhere-in-between
As if they were
Wait, how strange
Following after me
Pursuers of one
In dire need
Of learning
And settling
One very old
Debate
And it seemed
That either
They were flying
Fleeing
From the pain
And darkness
Going at full throttled speed
Or racing
Headlong
Toward the joy
Starving to ingest
Grace
Afraid it might
Evaporate
And leave them craving
Joy’s intoxicating
Taste
As if in a state of panic
An alcoholic in need of
Drink
Bouncing between every
Shade of
Lavender
And blues
From there
Hop-scotching toward
Sweet marigold
And sunburst
Summer colors, blended and
Reconstituted
Attracting them
Like their cousins moths
Flying toward a flame
Heading full-speed
Toward another hillside
Filled with
Blinding
Brilliant
Color
To him the glass
Is more than full
It is abundant, overflowing
And he
The Monarch
Is rejoicing in the banquet
His epic summer feast
And I thank him for the lesson learned
As though he could really
Hear
My whispers of humble gratitude
And as he flies away
He leaves me alone to dream
By both brilliant day and inky night
To the sound of a sad
Lonesome
Whistle, from a passing train
Whose tune sounds
Like one written by Willie Nelson
Or Johnny Cash
Or another deep thinker singer
Who tries to say
No, Oh No
It wasn’t full, your glass
No not at all
After all
I go with joy
I go with gladness
I go with gratitude
And go in peace
Gripping my half full glass
For the one who tipped the vote
And settled this
For once and all
Finally
Was a pair of hummingbids
Dancing a pas de deux
Whose nectar dripped from
Fullness
With sweet gladness
As though
Mirroring
My joy
Overflowing, sweetly
Overflowing
elizabeth w. marshall 