#269

p.288: https://books.google.com/books?id=-Wf2AwAAQBAJ&pg=PA288&lpg=PA288&dq=acres+of+spirits+every+single+day+shook+headed+Henry+toward+his+friendly+grave&source=bl&ots=t60Bnrz6fh&sig=RpviVRxft9ziFPbAr8vlMDLZt64&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CB0Q6AEwAGoVChMI7f7D-sqayAIVDD2SCh1LxgUz#v=onepage&q=acres%20of%20spirits%20every%20single%20day%20shook%20headed%20Henry%20toward%20his%20friendly%20grave&f=false

Henry is on his way out. It’s one way for him. But I really do think life has more complexity, and there are ineffable rewards and fulfillments that he never learned how to acknowledge.

Your Parsley and the Swallowtail Caterpillar

I confess now that I knew

About the swallowtail caterpillar

That devoured your parsley plants. It’s amazing,

Isn’t it? How ravenous they can be!

One day a pot of fine bushy plants

Which I knew you were nurturing

For a fine peppery sauce,

An herbal salt-crust for that roast

You were thawing—

But it disappeared in two days.

Isn’t it amazing?

I’m sorry for their terrible hunger

Though, because you planted

That parsley from seeds

And watered it every day,

The leaves burgeoning tender and fresh

In the sun on the deck.

Caterpillars feed in a green shriek

And once they’ve started on parsley

They may eat nothing else.

They’ll fly away next spring

Weird incantations of parsley

Transmuted to butterfly wings.

I will never understand it.

I know you’re not angry,

But because I knew, I still accept

Their hunger as my failing.

Something in you is missing

Now, the substance of desire

Transmuted to butterfly wings

Flitting wild over the lawn.

But I know that there is more

To them than escaping hunger,

And I promise that what they gave me

In their wildness, I will return.

I will never understand

The broad circle of love

Either, hungry as a caterpillar

Wild as a swallowtail

That will float from behind you

And land and sip sweet

Moisture from your hand

But you must release your desire

And grow still as a parsley flower.

KZ