Greed

My son witnessed his first rainbow the other day
And ever since has been demanding
To be shown one on cue
Which got me to thinking
About greed
Greed used to be an ugly word
Conjuring up images of brutality
A butterfly pinned
Under glass
A songbird in a cage
But here is my son
Greedy for life
Not knowing it is considered impolite
To constantly expect new miracles
Not knowing that to openly crave
Abundance is a faux pas
And suddenly I understand
Brutish greed is born of deprivation
The prodigal son surely stuffed
Butterflies by the handfuls
By the fistfuls
Into his fraying pockets
Trapped birds by the dozen
Tying them to the grimy bundle
On his back
Forever haunted by the fear
Of having to do without
But once he returned
His mother sat him down
Upon the softest pillows
Prepared delicacy after delicacy
For him to eat
Led him through the rainforest
Shimmering with
Butterflies and multicolored birds
During his long absence
He had all but forgotten this garden
Was his birthright
For never has the Goddess been tight-fisted
Nature is superfluity
And so I’ve come to think
It is not greed
But a kind of composure
To accept
That which is gifted freely
And playfully insist
On more