Last Flight (Poetry)

A solitary Cabbage White,
weaving awkwardly
his hopeful, rambling flight
between the borders,
seeks the last warm, sunlit patch
to pump his wings;
flash their ragged semaphore
and catch the passing eye
of a potential mate.

He spreads his threadbare, brave
                                display
too fragile and too late;
the afternoon deceives
with chilling winds: his craft is
                                blown off course
to flutter, dying, with spent leaves
that fly the same short route.