Opus

By Steve Howard Last updated Feb 8, 2022

Opus

The butterfly his opus writes,
on breezes passing by.
Yet as he writes he does forget,
the how, the when, and why.

A butterfly I cannot be,
the fates will not allow.
For I remember why and when,
I’ve just forgotten how.

Poem

Steve Howard

Born in North Carolina, he spent his early childhood in the Appalachian mountains. There he was weaned on gospel and bluegrass music, as well as tales of ghosts, will o the wisps and faeries in the misty highlands. Now retired, and living in northwest Florida, he spends as much time as possible on the rivers and in the woodlands.

Creative Conversation Topics

For the True Devotee Only