"The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. "

~Rabindranath Tagore~

Legend of the Butterfly

Once as a child many years ago...
on a balmy summer's eve.
I sat in the yard at my Mother's side...
and a butterfly lit at my sleeve.

"It's a sign of good luck", my Mother said.
As the butterfly stayed at my arm...
"It's a symbol of all the beauty in life.
Make sure you do it no harm."

First butterflies are eggs and after they hatch...
they see that their life's just beginning.
They're content with their lot in life,
so, they go out on a limb and start spinning.

They stay out awhile in a magic cocoon....
then emerge like flowers in spring.
Then they share the story of their victory and success...
through each of the colors of their wings.

The gold in their wings is the"Golden Rule"...
To follow that is a must.
The blue....That means true blue.
Always be someone people can trust.

The green of the tip of their wing
is saying Stay green, and you'll always grow.
The silver is the lining in the clouds of doubt...
that you must look for as you go through life.

Butterflies bend with the wind, it's true.
Still they get where they want to go.
They arrive by persistence through their own insistence...
A lesson more people should know.

Sought and valued by the whole human race...
For their beauty, tenacity and charm.
If a butterfly ever chances to stay at your sleeve...
remember, my friend, don't fight it, but,
learn all you can from the butterfly clan.
And you too, may become a rare item.

~Author Unknown~

Butterfly Wishes

Yesterday a butterfly
Came floating gently through the sky.
He soared up through the atmosphere
Then drifted close enough to hear.

I said, "I'd love to fly with you
And sail around the way you do.
It looks like it would be such fun
To fly up toward the summer sun.

But I have not your graceful charm.
I haven't wings, just these two arms.
I've been designed to walk around.
My human feet must touch the ground.

Then magically he spoke to me
and told me what his wish would be.

He said, "What I'd love most to do
Is walk upon God's Earth with you,
To squish it's mud between my toes
Or touch my finger to my nose.

I'd love just once to walk around
With human feet to touch the ground,
But I have not two legs that swing,
I haven't arms, just these two wings."

And so we went our separate ways
In wonder and surprise.
For we'd both seen God's precious gifts
Through someone else's eyes.

~Author Unknown~

To A Butterfly

I've watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! - not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wing when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:--with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.

~William Wordsworth~

From Cocoon forth a Butterfly

From Cocoon forth a Butterfly
A Lady from her Door
Emerged -- a Summer Afternoon --
Repairing Everywhere --

Without Design -- that I could trace
Except to stray abroad
On Miscellaneous Enterprise
The Clovers -- understood --

Her pretty Parasol be seen
Contracting in a Field
Where Men made Hay --
Then struggling hard
With an opposing Cloud --

Where Parties -- Phantom as Herself --
To Nowhere -- seemed to go
In purposeless Circumference --
As 'twere a Tropic Show --

And notwithstanding Bee -- that worked --
And Flower -- that zealous blew --
This Audience of Idleness
Disdained them, from the Sky --

Till Sundown crept -- a steady Tide --
And Men that made the Hay --
And Afternoon -- and Butterfly --
Extinguished -- in the Sea --

~Emily Dickinson~

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