White Butterflies
By Larry Matthews
7:59 in the morning walking
through the Octagon my socks
slip towards my toes in shoes
too big for my feet
I walk carefully
and hear white butterflies singing
smell coffee roasting
George Street is empty
no buses to rumble the flurry
of white butterflies singing
this stillness and emptiness
on this bitter Dunedin day
warmed by white butterflies
singing their songs
their songs invoke a dream
a thermal spring surfaces from memory
and I sit in the hot water and
allow the snow to cap my head
I become a Snow Monkey and
immerse myself in stillness
then hear the last of eight bells ringing
hear the birds singing
resting their wings among gold stars,
in wire-choked trees
surrounded by bitter coffee air
now filled with white butterflies
Larry Matthews is a Dunedin-based writer, designer and artist.
