parkway on a busy day
hurry from the gym,
off to work,
any siren barely heard
over my radio and my thoughts
everyone wonders,
"did i leave early enough?"
and thinks
"if i make this light, i won't be late"
but, what catches my eye
amid the bustle of normal
is butterfly wings
carrying a transformed
caterpillar
on a crooked journey
across rush hour;
she didn't cause this
parkway hurricane
she just showed me,
for a moment,
the eye of the storm
trying to pay attention to what's going on in the world around me
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