Three drops of dew on a blade of grass
glisten in morning sunlight.
A tiny butterfly hovering overhead,
whispers: I have a message for you.
Your brothers want to know
what’s taking you so long?
They have space reserved for you.
The fat drop barks: Can you spare a few bucks?
I need to shmear the bouncer at the door
or else I can’t get in. The other drop chimes in,
reminding me to get my teeth cleaned twice a year.
I tell the butterfly to let them know
I’ll soon be there just as soon as a few more stents clog up.