Upside- Down Reality | Holly Hill

I dip a paintbrush into tinted water / The tadpole emerges as a butterfly. The caterpillar leaps onto a lily pad / And slide it across the already-wet cardstock / Children hold pressed leaves up to bare branches in March. Siblings draw chalk murals on the driveway during a rainstorm / I look up to a window / Friends dance barefoot in the snow. The writer breaks a pattern / And see masks that show more personality than their wearers’ faces