Butterflies
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
She has come from afar because she spent most of the winter in Mexico
Aware of her destiny, she's not aimlessly flopping about to and fro
Quietly, she flaps through the air like a symphony on the wings of the wind
Sound is no specialty of hers, but to ignore her beauty would be an awful sin
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