To a Monarch

Not many more days like this,
sitting by the garden we built on the hill,
checking the pumpkins
that spilled through the fence
toward freedom, toward risk.

You flew today,
leaving behind the shriveling vines.

Through these weeks
we watched you transcend form,

While I dream, you driffle southward
as you heed the timeless stir,
seeking sustenance from fall’s last flowers,
split and spilling toward the soil,
finding tattered flags of blooms,
I hope the frost will spare.

© Sandy Long