It's Monday which means my post will be a poem. By Me. Go figure.
Two poems about butterflies:
I just saw a flutterby
I mean I saw a blutterfy
Oh shucks! the butterfly has flew
so now my silly poem is through..
Caterpillar, small and sweet
it seems that all you do is eat.
You dine on leaves all day and night
and munch until your skin's too tight.
But if you tire of chewing things
and wish to trade your feet for wings
then make a chrysalis of jade
to hang beneath the milkweed shade,
or maybe spin a silver nest
in cherry trees to rock and rest.
No matter which cocoon you make
you'll fly away, when you awake.