Yellow Butterfly


“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.” – Richard Bach

“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” – Albert Einstein

yellow butterfly2222222222

I did not notice all the color this butterfly possesses, nor the markings on its wings – my eyes are not what they used to be. It was wonderful and amazing to see the detail in this photograph once I zoomed in and cropped it in a photo editor. I am not a professional photographer by any means, but I enjoy the shots I do get with my Canon Rebel DRL I am enthralled by the magic of nature and its wide variety of life forms. I enjoy nature, but I am not a scientist – I do not know what species of butterfly this is, but it is pretty. There were a lot of these yellow butterflies visiting this summer. Fall is well upon us and soon winter will spread her white cloak over all. Every season is beautiful, but I do look forward to seeing these winged beauties once again.

The Conversation


The conversation 2

 

“Come, rest upon my petals here and tell me of your story.

Where have you been, My little friend?”

Said the flower to the moth

“I roam high above, where you can never go.

I visit plants and trees and flowers sweet everywhere I travel,”

Said the moth to the flower.

“Oh, to fly up high, to soar upon the winds.

To not be planted in one place, to see beyond the wall.”

Sang the flower to the moth.

“Aw, but you are treasured, for your beauty and your scent.

No worries about foes like birds that would eat you, if they could,”

Said the moth to the flower.

“There are pros and cons to every Life,”

Continued he to she. The moth thought to comfort her with his words so wise

And yet the flower pined and pined for freedom to travel far.

“It’s true, I am admired, and watered every day, but if you think me safe right here

You know not all my visitors,” replied the flower,

“For there are bugs that chew my leaves, And spiders everywhere. Not to mention

honey bees That feed upon my nectar.”

“Aw, so you serve this world,

Nourishing the pollinator,” the moth cried out.

“Oh silly moth, I know the truth – that you as well

Pollinate us flowers,” she answered,

“And so, you see, we have need of thee.

When you brush your soft, soft wings

Against my little petals, you do more than tickle me

Like some ethereal feather. And when you chance to nibble me

And drink deeply of my nectar,” she shyly whispered, “you too carry my

Essence to continue seed production.”

The moth stretched out his wings and proudly strutted his stuff

He thought about all the good he did and didn’t remember why

Venus flytrap chewed up his kind, that naughty, naughty flower.

It was because the caterpillar he once was did damage to her leaves

and ruined her every finery….

The flower knew this, but did not say, for his friendship she treasured

After what seemed a lengthy pause, the moth did once more speak

“We each do our part, to bring beauty to this world, and I will speak to north wind

And ask him when you’re ready, to blow your petals far above the wall so you can see

The wonders of this world,” the moth proclaimed.

And so, it came to be, that during summer’s warmest days the flower bloomed and blossomed. But in the fall the north wind kept his promise and lifted high her petals. She traveled far beyond the wall and lived at last her dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Death of a Sunflower


 

She bows her head down to the earth

As if in prayer and submissive stance

She lowers her head down to the ground

From which she sprung, but a short time ago

Her life is short but leaves behind

Memories of her beauty and her grace

And reminds us all of the sacred and sublime

That lays within utter humility

She hangs her head, but not in shame

‘Tis only the lateness of the hour

Her stalk, once strong, that held her high

Lowers her gently now back to the soil

She will lie fallow through harsh autumn winds

And willingly gives herself to winter’s icy grip

Knowing that the seed she carries

Deep within her flower

Will arise anew when the sun once again warms the earth

In the great cycle of death and birth

Birth of a Sunflower


peeking sunflower

Deep within your green folds you grow

Developing, stretching toward the sun that warms you

Slowly you peek out at the August sky

Not quite ready yet to make your debut

Sneaking furtive glances at the sun

For whom you are named

And like the earth itself you follow the sun

Reaching on green stalk toward the warmth

Of your namesake in the sky

Even before you burst forth in all your glory

we wait in joyful hope

Anticipating your beauty

Your wide girth

And brown centre

That provides a subtle base

To your golden petals

Soon, soon