Art by Shawn Christopher Martin /
Poem by Lori Minutoli
Do they know the terror in the streets
Do they feel the agony in the cries
Or hear the last words of those who die
What of the gun shots or sirens
Flashing lights and toxic smoke
Do they even know at all
We stop to notice
The colors of their wings
The gentle ways they pass us by
We photograph their elegance
Adorned with detailed lines
Fragile complex beauty passing by
Where are they going
What do they see
A flower or a tree
I wonder if they see me
I want to follow their lead
And wander to and fro
Take me to the green fields
Where wildflowers grow
©️Lori Minutoli 9/1/2020
Lori Minutoli 