The Spring sun stretches bright

Yellow rays upon the morning.

Droplets of dew reflecting the light,

Earth and species warming.


Among the shrubs and the leaves,

Producers play their part in the cycle.

They work and they thrive which achieves

Life, sustenance and fresh recycle.


The small, round, hungry creature

Plays it’s part. The same job – day,

After day. Waiting to become a feature,

An exhibition in the world’s stage play.


Day in, day out. The caterpillar grows.

Grounded by design, yet reaching

The insect ever-onward goes

Not knowing what it is seeking.


On a day of the same, the beast

Gives up. Around itself a cocoon

Is scaffolded, hoping at least

To perish and to death commune.


Darkness enfolds, concealing

The shame and pain borne

By the wretch. No feeling,

No joy, nothing to mourn.


Crack is the sound of rebirth.

Yellow rays stretch into the space,

Baptising the creature with worth.

Out comes the butterfly with grace.


Fanning the wood with the most

Glorious of wings, up high

Flies the beauty, plenty to boast.

Oh, to reach the bright Spring sky!



Image: Fine Art America


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