From across the parking lot
on an early spring afternoon
you see a yellow butterfly
just before it disappears
behind the roof of the grocery store
and I am certain no scientist
could ever prove this, but
in that moment on the pavement
in the swirling chill of breeze
you are somehow saved, though you don’t
have a hint what that might mean, except
that it feels like, at least for that instant,
everything is possible.