in those streets, amid the honking

and blaring, shouts and cries

            a butterfly

attracted by the yellow

lane lines

thinks there is sustenance,

it floats

downward

like an autumn leave

ignoring traffic noise

the homeless woman who mutters

and raises a fist

skyward

            with it’s sole purpose

it’s singular attraction

the monarch

flutters between zooming cars

oblivious to danger

until it is close enough

to realize

this yellow is no flower

            no matter, rising

it looks for a resting

place, lands on the woman’s

shoulder

momentarily.

and she is silenced, though

lips move

a prayer

of gratitude.