But­ter­flies

Isis Town and Country - - Opinion - – by Ron Gra­ham

I know a spe­cial tree Loved by the but­ter­fly,

A cloud of wings I see As beauty flut­ters by. Some wings are blue on black

And oth­ers yel­low white;

No pretty colours lack

In this de­light­ful sight.

For sev­eral days they fly flash­ing fan­tasy.

I know that by and by Their charm no more I'll see.

But eggs left row on row Let cater­pil­lars hatch. Then chrysalises grow,

A won­der hard to match;

For grubs within trans­form,

And but­ter­flies anew Emerge to grace the dawn

And drink the morn­ing dew.

And if their spe­cial trees

You too should hap to spy,

Be their pro­tec­tors please,

That but­ter­flies may fly.

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