Come with me, to the butterfly tree,
And flitter flutter round and round.
Come with me, like the bee to honey.
Like the ant returns to its mound.
So full of color in the evening light.
In variety and number they abound.
Where cats watching wait in stalk below.
A tasty treat to pound upon the ground.
I watch and wait while the sun goes down.
As they swirl and swoop without a sound.
They mate and until late they wait.
To land on limbs to lay their eggs down.
The succulent leaves their larvae need.
To grow and spin their womb around.
To be reborn again, grow and fly.
To seek their own tree to be found.
Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull