~The Butterflies Dance~
(A Double Whitney)
The sun is
so warm and nice
there is cheer
spring has sprung
one more time and
winter so cold is now gone.
have returned and
and the roses
to my delight
Now I see butterflies dance.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Fifteen tiny swallows
Fifteen tiny swallows
All perched upon a fence
Oh what handsome fellows
But here, let me commence
To speak of all their beauty
These tiny little birds
All black and cream with a reddish throat
Oh how my heart they stirred
A lady walking with her dog
Disturbed these little guys
So from the fence these birds take wing
And head towards the skies
It seems that they are dancing
In the way they fly around
They always seem to fly in circles
And nearly touch the ground.
I walk around these wetlands
And wonder at it all
Everyday it’s something else
And it’s all so beautiful
Ducks and swallows, parrots too
And the beauty of the lake
I love to walk there most of all
At the coming of the daybreak.
16 August 2013 @ 1510hrs.
Looking up I spot a bird; floating in the sky just soaring way up high. Graceful with wings spread never seeming to move slowly he circles around. In the distance another calls out as joining in this dance in the sky! The two ever higher begin their decent slow and mythological. What feels like hours I watch enjoying the sight drifting downward? What beauty the two birds display as they dare soar closer with each pass.
At last I can tell their hawks. A pair I’m sure for they fly together and call out to one another. I watch as one pauses on a tree limb looking about. The other still circling above and calls out once again. An answer comes from the beauty on the limb.
Amazed I watch the other land on the bird bath. What a sight to see as the smaller one now splashes in the bath. Clean and dry off she flies into the trees. The big hawk again into the sky higher and higher I watch him soar. Soon he’s high enough it’s difficult to tell this graceful soaring bird is the hawk from my backyard. A cry from afar and then he too disappears from my sight.
I find myself looking up watching and waiting for soaring high I’ll see my hawks. The graceful dance in the sky I know will lead them to the bird bath along with the branch where he sits and waits. A cry will sound in the distance alerting me of their intended arrival. My hawks will soar high circling with grace till they dare once more visit a while.
walking silently with the spirits of the woods
the stunning acquaintance of a snowy Owl
Hearing songs from many around yet not seen or found
careful your crossing a coral snake or copperhead
preparing to wave all rights to see beauty to live
one piercing bite from the red and yellow snake
deadly shy snake sudden death may await your fate
stillness and earth is touched with Cherokee blood
many tribes with sage and fires dances the brave
you see the wild mustangs ride and deer in mind
the squirrels the rabbits and wolves you hear
the woods once a many land to explore
becomes extinct with Mans desire to build more
how much can we take before it is gone forever
entered " in the woods contest "
A TRAGEDY OF PRIDE ( hubris)
In the Arctic nights the jazz born North Lights sound
with a music of their own. Fair winds ferry fragile birds--
take to the skies in search of sympathetic warmth profound
while white breathless silence magnifies each sound as it is heard
and few venture forth, like bears they dash to find a haven
where they can hide until reluctantly the sun has stirred--
But, there is one jay bird who is not one of nature’s craven
creatures-- Waiting for a spring call from his mate, he hops into the hungry snow
to dance a dangerous dance in icy morning with the ravens.
There is a God flung magic that dashes high above the haughty human know
among the ancient secret kingdoms of the mystery sky--
And there it is that Wisdom’s Word is spread by wing and wayward winds that blow
their way in worldwide splendor and intricate magnificence that defies
the mind of man. It is a truth that dalliance in vanity is inborn---
Man or bird, into the nature of some spirits-- it low lies
and becomes incited when grand fame or imagined glory has been shorn
by another . And , so-- in Persia when the Prince of Peacocks heard
murmurs of the razzing ravens and the sassy sparrows high sky airborne
a proclamation that the World knew now there lived a peerless bird--
plucky-proud, surpassing the peacock -- Jay magnificent with a spirit daunting, a weight
of valiant blue in shades escaped of double rainbows, color-blurred
who bedazzled all nature’s eyes and winds of ear, that judiciously beheld each trait.
The peacock, no longer Highest Prince of Birds, screamed a terrible and cosmic sound
of jealousy. Ignoring all the glory that still made him great--
the vain and foolish peacock fell-- stunned and breathless to the ground.
Victoria Anderson-Throop 2012 ©
Written in Juja, Kenya
Bird is Stellar Jay, common in Valdez, Alaska
This story is based partly on the Indian mythology and partly
on my imagination. The story theme is anger, which can destroy
even the entire Earth, but if controlled it can also be converted
into creative energy. The incident is from the mythology of Hindus,
which speaks, how Shiva the supreme God of Hindus started
one day his Tandava Nritya * or the Dance of destruction and
how it was controlled …..What was the cause of this anger would
be explained in the concluding part of this epic.
When the Earth was in danger 07
By then the new foliage of spring had began to smile,
on the branches of every tree,
All the buds of the flower plants had started blooming,
in that new swing of season,
Fragrance coming from the sandalwood forests,
was flowing in the air all around,
intoxicating everyone and everything,
All the insects, animals and birds,
which were not conscious about this sudden change of season,
Began to dance in sweet pleasure,
after tasting the intoxication flowing in the air. 25
Even the Koyal* started its sweet spring singing,
in her most melodious voice during that time,
which she had never sang before.
The peacock also started its most colorful and
The Rivers too began to flow with the most pleasing sound,
as if they were singing a song.
The sky had opened in those moments,
its fabulous treasures of alluring colors,
to charm the entire universe.
The Sun rays coming from behind the hovering colorful clouds
were spreading on the earth,
a magical scene which no one had ever witnessed on Earth.
Such was the grandeur and wind of attractions,
everywhere on the earth,
that even Gods too got completely lost,
what to say of human beings. 26
Embodiment of Shiva* the Neelkantha*
which use to fly often high and low in the air,
were today dancing like a Peacock,
while spreading their blue wings in the air.
What had happened to the Earth,
why everyone was lost in the realm of a different world.
All the inhabitants of Earth and even of the heaven,
were keeping a silence only with folded hands.
As they were either praying to Shiva or
were silently praying to their favorite Gods
to save the earth.
Kanpur India 07 h April 2011 to continue in 8
• Koyal = a singing bird of India like nightingale.
• Neelkanth* = Blue jay. A bird having blue throat. To see Neelkanth please open
How many times have you been happy
How many times, I ask you all
Have you been really happy?
How many times have you laughed with joy?
And felt so very free
Just because you’re filled with life
No help from booze, or drugs
How many time have you let a smile
Give your heart a happy hug?
When did you stop and let your life
Just thrill you through and through
Without fulfilling some desire
Or some dream coming true
How many times were you forced to smile
Cause the sun shines high above?
Or you heard the sound of a singing bird
And your heart just filled with love.
How many times have you let fear go
And faced life unafraid
And felt the you, the total you
That really cannot fade
How many times have you rejoiced
Because you just love life?
How many times have you filled with joy
All free from worry and strife?
19 November 2013 @ 1830hrs.
It waits on the wedge of a field
no longer lonely, another
floats in for a landing above
a sea of yellow flowers
Who will forget that wonderful fuss,
the mock scolding of an absence
now being celebrated
The preaching by a full range of
vocals - wing tips folding and unfolding
against a new, and thinking sky
For Andrea's SF Contest
The birdsong orchestra tunes up
The dancers await their cue
Suddenly, the musical sound erupts
Each butterfly knowing what to do
First they stand and flutter their wings
Like a ballerina with a straight stance
As one, in formation, they launch
themselves into a twist and twirl dance.
The ooh's and aah's of the watchers
As a myriad of colour floats by
In and out of the flower bed
To visit each one, they will try
Drinking out of the flowers
Gives them energy anew
A spiral flight towards heaven
Was the finale to view
Summertime brings us so much fun
Butterflies and birds to watch and listen to
Flowers showing off their colours
Then comes Autumn with pleasures anew
Penned 26 September 2013 by Seren Roberts
Nature’s Single Dad:
The Australian Emu :
The first 55 days
Emund is busy
partners who’ll put
him to the test.
His pedigree line
has proven with time
that it is now his
turn, to be best.
He hears them emerge
from the bush as
they gather in
answer to nature’s
They dance, and then
go away, they know
they cannot stay;
there is not enough
food for them all.
They dip and they
weave as they mingle
that each has a
With his reputation,
there is no
he is ready to join
in the dance.
‘Bonk! Bonk,’ comes
the sound of another
Emulena!’ he says
with a grin.
Others move to the
side as he leaves
to greet this dancer
as she flounces in.
rhythmic movement of
hips she fluffs up
her boa, it bounces
He matches her mood.
His movements are
as they twist and
twirl in their
He does not fuss
about who takes the
lead, he follows and
their dance now is
With steps that are
light he glides to
he meets her, bows
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
It matters not
whether we all stay
we trust you to know
what to do.”
As she speaks, they
deposit their gifts,
and he hears, as in
chorus they say,
“We know you’ll do
magically, what you
to deliver these in
your own way.”
After completing her
task, Emulena stands
tall and she fluffs
up her feathers once
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
and promenade across
the dance floor.
Left all alone, he
goes back to his
duties and looks
closely at each pale
He checks all for
defects. He sees
they are perfect,
so with care he
covers every one
He sticks to his
task for fifty-five
days in sunshine,
strong winds and
He values each
treasure and tends
them with pleasure
as he, turns each
egg every three
Through his long
lashes he sees
danger coming. He
drops his neck down
like a log.
Feathers flying on
high and red fur
he needs to fool
both bird and dog.
The shells have now
turned a dark bluey
green, there’s an
infertile egg in the
This egg will be
food for his hungry
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
He’ll sit day and
night until the
He knows, that time
to be continued...
This wild and woody garden
This wild and woody garden
Oh, how she pleases me
Her upkeep sometimes gets me down
This I did not foresee
I guess that now at seventy
I’m really slowing down
But if my trees should disappear
Then I would surely frown.
I created all of this
I knew just what to do
I planted every kind of shrub
And watch the growth come through
Now one can’t hardly move in it
But oh the energy
That seems to flow into my soul
From every kind of tree
The birds, they come to visit us
In every kind of hue
As the trees they dance upon the breeze
And me, I’ve naught to do
But sit here watching natures show
Me, and my little friend
Letting power sooth my soul
And bring angst to its end.
9 August 2013 @ 1826hrs.
Maestro woodpecker taps his beat
to the symphony of a rising sun,
casting rays on Boardman Pond.
Great white heron, the prima ballerina,
strikes her pose
as blue herons pirouette.
An ibis takes flight with grace
as a tri-colored heron waltzes,
displaying multi-hued plumage.
Alone on the observation deck,
I am blessed to view the ballet,
a most welcome, daily, sunrise ritual.
Even the nesting wood stork
adds his cries to the harmonious melody,
echoing through rising mist on pristine wetlands.
Peace and poise reign
until the predatory osprey swoops across the stage,
causing other birds to scatter.
Even a basking gator’s eyes
rise to observe the flutter of wings.
Only the great white heron remains composed.
*Inspired by Robert Butler’s “Majestic Pose”
Written February 21, 2015
Boardman Pond, located in Volusia County, Florida, has a deck for watching the many amazing birds that nest and play in the wetlands surrounded by the forest of a state park.
In the park, there stands a very old tree
Which has been there before I came to be
I love sitting on the bench in its shade
Just being there, my concerns seem to fade
On its branches, I can hear birds singing
And I can feel a gentle breeze blowing
Then the leaves of the tree begin to dance
Watching their movement puts me in a trance
I can see sunlight peeping through the leaves
As they continue dancing in the breeze
Softly, I thank the tree for being there
And caress its furrowed bark with great care
That tree is now my very special friend
Our friendship will endure to the end
This mystic dance
They shake. They sway. They dance with glee
These limbs that grow from mother tree
As breeze she takes them on her back
She blows her leaves all down the track
As mystic river rolls along
I feel life’s power loud and strong
As I gaze up at the deep blue sky
Contentedly my heart does sigh
I won’t make bargains with the power
I watch each tree and every flower
I praise her for her tender gift
She gives my heart a lovely lift
I thank her with my heart and soul
She made me breath, she made me whole
Gave me all this lovely splendor
I stroll along, and I surrender
The river ripples, and it waves
As birds they sing, and my heart craves
To be within this mystic dance
This morning my heart does enhance
Each moment special just for me
As all I want to do is be
Not lonely though I’m all alone
I feel joy deep within my bones.
13 August 2014 @ 0530hrs.
wings Para Para pink fans fly into the sun the lawn is silent
Bless you, my
you have found your
going to school far
She texts me from
“I’m learning the
Skylarks inspire her
Early sights and
(from her morning
energize her soul
with style and
Skylarks - Kralyk's
Today I hit the wetland trails
Today I hit the wetland trails
I’ve not done this for a while
It’s not the same as the older days
When I used to walk for miles
My body’s getting older now
I’m easing off a bit
And yet these wetlands filled with life
I love them, I admit.
Whilst walking I got kind of high
The clouds were in the sky
As the rain was teeming down
I heard the ravens cry
As two of them flew over head
Giving out their lonely calls
There’s something about these big black birds
That be so beautiful.
Then I saw a flock of swallows
About a hundred strong
They were not singing tenderly
I heard no kind of song
But my, those birds, they seemed to dance
They whirled and twirled around
And put my mind into a trance
As I trod the grassy ground.
I walked for just an hour or two
As that rain, it soaked the earth
Oh. Walking through these wetland trails
Is a thing of so much worth
Then I went home to write some poems
To celebrate my day
And let the day just do its thing
As I went on my way.
15 August 2013 @ 1350hrs.
None can compare.
To the nude silver branches and barren expanses,
That the cool of winter doth bring.
Unless you equate the way the birds sing,
In the start of the fresh, blooming spring.
Or perhaps the warm air,
Filled with crickets’ prayer,
That’s found only in the summer’s afternoon glare.
But then there is the time of the harvest,
With leaves like the paint on the palette of an artist.
Such tender, splendor indeed, in each season is found,
For in Nature, beauty truly doth rise and abound.
Shawnee Doling-Tye 10/6/13
When one sees the penguins stand
in ice born storm at minus forty
why don't they move to a better land.
They stand together and don't complain
then they walk to the sea again.
What do they do just standing there?
looking up at snowflakes fall
do they wonder and compare
the snow flakes size and weight'n all
perhaps they ask how many in a bunch,
Mostly I spect they think of lunch.
Why do they nest on hard cold ice
far, so far, from the water's side
with no food and no bed thats nice.
Do they stand about with pride
And think of food and dream and wish
about their sea so full of fish.
Do they wonder about their children
with a parents welling love,
what do they hope for their baby.
And do they tell their fluffy young ones
about the stories their father told them
as they stood on their grandads feet.
Do some dream of slick fast swim
arrow sleek through high light waters
of sweeping curve and fish fast turn
as they stand on ice hard water.
How do the baby penguins feel
when first they see the ice cold water,
are they eager but full of fear
is it then a heaven for them
to feel the wonder of achievement
of the dance, a water ballet.
What is it to be a penguin
to be a wobbly bumbling comic
who waddles wobbly with no grace
But soon is born to the water.......
and graceful dances in the wonderous sea.
I smile as it seems to be,
The wind came to play with me.
For i lay in bed,
Ill for what seems like forever.
I cannot move or dance myself,
So the wind and my dreams dance together.
I watch as the humming birds made of lace,
come alive before my eyes.
I love to watch the sweet caress,
Of the lacy blinds against the open glass.
I love to watch as my dreams take me,
Dancing me out my small window
To the open land and tall trees,
To the light in the skies,
And the smell of the seas.
I laugh as i slip away into my dreams,
Now i can dance for myself.
Three finches gather at the old bird feeder
Nestled near the small patch of corn
Enthusiastically taking turns twirling around
Like at a ho down at the old Seller’s barn
Doing acrobatic dance maneuvers
As thistle seed falls merrily to the ground
Three happy finches dancing away the day
As shadows begin to emerge on the old wooden fence
Three weary finches danced their hearts out
A few feathers less than when they first begun
My favourite comics is the Peanuts strip
Featuring 'good grief' good old Charlie Brown
Reading it takes me on a pleasant trip
Especially when Snoopy is around
Charlie Brown's faithful beagle is Snoopy
They get along with each other quite well
He can be sneaky when he is ready
Yet, just when and where, you can never tell
When Linus, in one hand, holds his blanket
The thumb of his other hand in his mouth
Snoopy sneaks in, suddenly grabs hold of it
Then runs around, spinning him all about
Yellow Woodstock is Snoopy's feathered friend
He bounces up and down when he's flying
On Snoopy's friendship he needs to depend
He alone knows what Woodstock is saying
Snoopy flies off in his Sopwith Camel
To the skies to battle the Red Baron
They both engage in a fearsome duel
Each trying to outdo the other one
Snoopy dances around when he's happy
If Lucy is close by, she must watch out
He would dance up to her very closely
Lean over and then kiss her on the mouth