My father watches a video
my mother took
of a butterfly feeding
from a zinnia, slowly
flapping its wings, and says,
“I don’t think I’ve ever
heard a sermon
as profound as this.”
In the background
church bells ring, the same
my grandmother loved,
who kept butterflies
encased in glass frames
on her wall
beside a crucifix.
There are a thousand unknown things
coming together
in the opening and closing
of this moment.
You might need to know
my father
for this to be
as profound as it is
to me. Friend,
I wish you did.