Wings

If I woke a butterfly
I would have wings.
Should it rain, I would
shelter
to keep them dry.
When the storm receded
I would beat my wings furiously.
Pushing down on the cool air
to lift myself up.
My release.
If I slept a butterfly
my wings would need rest
from the heights.
I would not wake the same after that.
Such is the impact of a storm
on the wings.