The golden feeling

From hammock, you saw butterfly
Fluttering like a leaf
in a free breeze.

Bronze butterfly would do nothing
Against black trunk,
except flutter.

Gentle breeze did nothing except
Blow gently against
the dark trunk.

You did nothing on the hammock
Except feel you have
wasted a life.

You sit in it below overarching sky
And see everyone’s
doing nothing.

At dusk like this ,even smelly turd
Will rise like golden
sun’s horse.

Feeling you have wasted your life
Is warm gold feeling
in twilight.

(On reading James Wright’s poem “Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota”)