In the North
On this day
A million Painted Ladies
Drifted on highways
Of warm s'easterlies

Descended upon wild ancient 
Lands remembered 
To cocoon, feast and rise once again.

Artistic impressions of papillons
Adorn my door, socks, scarf
My eyes have never gazed upon 
Such species near or far.

Do they dwindle and fade,
Will glossy scales fall?
Inevitably, yes
In a day.

How perfect that nature's most subtle beauty 
Would feast on loathesome thistle, so thoroughly
To cause a whole crop to fail.

As I nestle in seasons of woven tales from near and far
Aran Islands to Chile
I, too, weave a cocoon 
Each to each stitch laid bare, thoughts of places
I've never seen
Near and far -
Some I'd never dare

For slowly, I too, will lose the gloss of youth.
Not before I, and many more
Ravenously erode the fields
of prickly weed

For, come spring -
Who knows what I might be.

Poem inspired by the film, Wilding, 2025.