The house behind glass walls

 

I groom my grass, push the blades

to the side and expose the dirt.

I point my finger and drag,

tracing a circle in the dust.

I watch ants slink by, snails pull

their bodies and make their spirals,

mazes that never end. The butterfly

floats by, wings quickly flapping,

preparing to land on the purple

clover perched above the earth,

I grab my cage, turn it, poised

to capture. Slowly I inch,

new house in hand, then zoom,

catching air on my way down.

I leave the glass and creep

back, and watch it flutter,

fly into the walls, trying

to reach the sky, same as I.