Butterfly

O, to be a butterfly loafed atop a minivan–

fluttering wings, happy, at ease,

cooped in Nature’s hand.

Nothing but the sound of locusts and Mother Nature’s friends:

the wind, the birds, and summer’s heat

melodiously chime in.

As the clouds float by in white,

and the sun’s glow starts to die,

I wonder, “O, what is it like to be a lolled butterfly?”