Mulberry Trees And Butterflies

(Mulberry trees talk among themselves About the butterflies that ignore them) Butterflies love oaks, elms, and willows; we know. They play hide and seek with their leaves tinged with snow. Do they flee from us because we are crook-barked? Around us, lethargic crows and eagles fly. They think we cherish their melancholic cry. Aren't, yet, in their blunt fondness too, our hearts sparked? Our stems, leaves, blossoms, and fruits are versatile. Do our toils to feed frail silkworms go futile? Why should we be tied down by uncertain lures? Aren't dragonflies and hoverflies precious too? Shouldn't, to each creature, our concern be true? Isn't existence beyond all ecliptic blurs?