TEN GENERATIONS OF BUTTERFLIES
or BACK TO THE GARDEN
It is mid November
and there are Monarchs
everywhere
at our new Texas home
It takes five generations
each way for them to get
from Mexico to Canada
and back
(Stan said so, and he
would know)
About sixty years ago
we lived for a year or two
at my grandfather’s farm
He had a garden
A Canadian national treasure
(The newspapers all said so)
Ten thousand trees planted
on the bald-assed prairie
rich with fruit and flowers
no one else would even test
that far north and west
I watch generation nine or ten
lightly and unerringly
almost home again
and feel his DNA
happily spinning
in every cell