Yellow Epiphany Poem by Sonny Rainshine

This time of year
hundreds of pale yellow
butterflies descend upon
the early purple thistle
blossoms and daisies,
buttering up
the landscape.

Common as dandelions
and not nearly as brilliant,
they churn and suckle,
insignificant, ordinary.
I’ll wait for the monarchs
and the swallowtails—
now there’s glamour;
there’s glory.

I’ll wait.

But wait!
Yesterday, I went outside
to bring in the laundry
when a single pale yellow
butterfly alit on
a white sheet, resting,
drinking the cool,
moist whiteness.

I never knew yellow
could shimmer so.