Butterflies And Cyanide Poem by John W. McEwers

The orchard breathes
rustling the leaves with its exhale,
sending the butterflies spinning through the air
like falling kites
made of wings

Fluttering like a falling flower,
a monarch lands amongst
fallen apples,
discarded fruit
unworthy of Eve's glistening lips

Flexing wings, it perches
until I rush towards it
yelling, arms waving
to shoo it away
because apples contain cyanide
or arsenic
and I want my fluttering friend
to not die
of being poisoned