Here and There

I live in two homes, like so many of my age seem to now, and I stepped outside earlier this morning and just soaked up the differences of the two places. One is in a small city. The one I'm in, the one I grew up in, is nearly in the middle of no where.

The air is cleaner here,

but not in a way that you can see,

nor measure.

But when I see butterflies,

so pretty, now, I've nearly forgotten what they look like,

the air under their wings is lighter.

Less weighed down by the sorrow, the misery,

of the people who breath out their wastes into air once fit to hold,

paperlike wings of butterflies.

Who would rather live out their day in an air such as here.

If I could stand and breathe here for days,

I would hardly care to return inside.

To the drudgery that is waiting to pull me,

into its grasp, where I will immediatly forget,

about the cleanliness of the air.

That, when it fills my lungs, is a life to get high on.

Author's Note

The picture is not owned by me, persay, but by my grandfather.

Reviews

[Gandré]

the air under their wings is lighter.

Less weighed down by the sorrow, the misery,

of the people who breath out their wastes into air once fit to hold,

paperlike wings of butterflies. --------------- I liked this expression. Nicely done. You feel a lot.