Efi Hatzimanolis #212 Eyes in the Sky

How high the butterfly.
At four storeys, it's level with neurosurgery.
At five, soaring higher still with a dragonfly.
I point them out to dad stuck in the hospital bed.
Probably, because of Australia’s tall
flowering forests, I say. He’s silently aware,
curious as nectar in the sky, glistening eyes,
blink-catch the butterfly.
It’s what we two do.
He taught me how to grow a potato plant,
from just an eye, when I was two.