Day 7--a twisted fairy tale

Written on the petals

There’s a vortex in the center
Of a wild iris, a secret place
That draws you in if you study it long enough.
It leads to a place of faerie. Not the tiny pixies
Of Victorian art, but winged warriors
Clad majestically in white and gold and purple.
They are flowers with swords,
Deadly butterflies, winged desire partaking
Of the best and fiercest of what the human world
Dubs male and female. I am writing this
On the petals of an iris. I cannot resist
That orris-scented, bright-petaled world much longer.
Perhaps I will come back some distant season
When the iris bloom again and the gate reopens.