For the graduates
I won't cast the college years as chrysalis,
won't imagine you emerging with damp wings
into the dappled days of May. No.
I see you as a herd of caribou
with springtime tugging
at your hooves, moving north
toward blue sawtooth peaks
on the far horizon, your path
winding along a braided river.
I see you as whales surfacing
from a deep dive, eyes shimmered
by luminous fish, bodies released
from cold and pressure,
and as you breach, you glimpse
a cobalt disk of ocean
stretched in all directions.
I see you building something
lovely from the ordinary
like the bowerbird who weaves
his lover a graceful archway
of grass and broken twigs.
I see you as new bees pushing
against the seals of your wax cradles,
restless with knowledge, eager
to swarm the daisied afternoon.
Now that we are back to insects,
maybe butterfly is right:
one million monarchs
rising beautiful
like sparks from a bonfire,
glimmer wings kindling
lights across the dusky world.