Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

A love poem: Fractals

Most intricate,
the smallest part
mirrors the whole,
infinite shapes repeating,
linear, unexpected,
Where is chaos here?
Footprints lost and then found,
and lost again.
I remember these
dimensions in your eyes,
your skin, your tongue.
Come, let us be butterflies
and fly against the grid.