Monarchs
Monarchs, monarchs
in the milkweed,
flitting around
along with bees.
Drinking nectar,
drifting along,
until cold months,
then they’ll be gone.
Brilliant orange,
streaked through with black,
regal flyers,
their name is apt.
Dropping their eggs,
small, larval seed,
on plants in which
they’re young can feed.
See so many
this time of year,
zipping around
rabbits and deer.
Monarchs, monarchs,
thing all their own,
come back next month,
they’ll all have flown.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2025
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