Not Rocket-Shaped. Poem by Stephen Brian Brady

This poem
although not rocket-shaped
will soon rise gently into space

the Butterfly
that didn't make it into Spring
gave one last flap of a glorious wing
centre-stage on the window-sill
with the potted cacti
and the smuggler figurines
rests perfectly still

what have we missed
is there something inbetween
our reflection in the window-pane
and the world outside
as it pauses and looks in
there's an edging-up
for another place to ride