the old man and his flute

there’s an old man playing his flute
the notes are crystallizing into diamond sunshine
there’s a mountain standing tall
reaching, grasping at the heavens
touching sky
and somewhere in the night
the owl has a question
while daylight brings the answer
while the coyote howls
the flute sings
the clouds dance
the moon sleeps
and the caterpillar is twice born

some caterpillars turn into butterflies
but most turn into moths
oddly enough
between the two
the butterfly is adored
while the moth is ignored
or hunted
or poisoned
or beaten
or tolerated
at best

we don’t have balance
and fairness is the word nature laughs at
the most

but the old man plays the flute
and we dance
because the sunshine is everything
and I’ve been in the dark for too long