Monarch Days

A gesture of yearning or an open book,
Slowly she spreads her stained-glass wings
Opening, closing, steadily, calmly
Nestled in a dogwood tree, flaming like a yule log on Christmas Eve.

As a squirrel scolds a jay
She dances across the lawn on air currents, erratic in early fall,
escaped from a Tiffany lamp
to taunt the chipmunks.

Taking shelter in the shade, she alights on a cedar log
that Jack hauled to the street
in a red wheelbarrow,
still fragrant from the cut.

-Jennifer Gauthier

Jennifer Gauthier is a recovering academic who recently discovered a passion for creative writing of all kinds. She is inspired by the natural setting of her home in Southwestern Virginia.