Of November days that seems of spring
Warm slanting sun
And blooming dandelions blossoms,
Open late for
One last dance,
Egg yoke yellow
With toothy florets,
Offering a free final meal of nectar
Before the butterflies, white and yellow,
Choose a loose bit of bark
Or a rolled leaf
Or a silken sleeping bag
To slumber the winter away.
Safe in their dreams
They are thankful I suppose,
And I am not surprised
By this mutualism:
Kindness begetting kindness
People might learn to call it.
Empathy at an evolutionary level,
It works both ways
Such prosperity,
A win-win
In these late warm days
Before the struggles
Of the dark cold coming winter.
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