Butterflies

Imagine a field strewn with flowers so bright,

That sway soft in waves as they bend ‘neath the light,

With colors so vivid, the richest of hues

Put artists to shame; what now is their muse?

And now, picture over the wild flowers gay

A flutt’ring of wings ‘neath the dawn of the day;

O’er milkweed and nettle, and marigold bright,

They deftly weave ‘round, colors catching the light.

Yon butterflies bring fields alive with their dance

Which man cannot do, he would tire and pant;

Yet daily they fly ‘mid the blooms and the leaves,

And bring simple joy to the ones who will see.