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