In anticipation of my potential,
you carefully plucked me
from the garden, stem and all,
and stowed me securely
behind wire walls,
patiently offering me
milkweed leaves weekly—

So it grieves me to inform you
of the car that I failed to see
as I was flitting across the macadam
this early morning.
Drivers who slow for rogue deer
or swerve for felines
pause not a jot for the insect world.
I was so taken
with the fall fireworks surrounding me
that I unwittingly became one—
a flash of color
falling from the sky.

Poet and educator Lynn Aprill spent 27 years teaching high school English and history in rural school districts in Northeast Wisconsin and continues to work with educators today. Mother of two, she currently resides with her husband and various dogs on 40 acres outside of Green Bay, Wisconsin. Channeling Matriarchs, her first chapbook with Finishing Line Press, is due out in August.