It's wings go silent in the night.
A smooth up and down movement during flight.
As it lands on a flower of blue.
Pollen clings onto its feet like glue.
Feet of black and shiny trifold.
Pollen brightening up the day with a lustrous burst of gold.
The butterfly remains upon the flower for a day.
Soon the wind picks up and it is time to stray.
A harmless wind.
One of warmth and one that's bold.
For the beauty will never get old.
The butterfly continues to fly.
To the South through the clear blue sky.
For even if there's not a wisp.
The ground is becoming rather crisp.
A flurry of snow rages through the land.
But that is no worry.
For in the South there is no hurry.
As long as it is cold up North.
The butterfly will continue to fly forth.
