By Delores Lowe Friedman
Mutability, sweet lady
Were it not for you
The butterfly would remain always a landbound worm
Never tasting the sweet spring air,
Nor dream of lighting on a cloud.
The bud would not unfold, grow velvet
Drinking in the summer sun.
The youthful yellow-green leaf might miss
the crimson blaze of passion,
The fall and peaceful rest.
You bring the delight of newness
the celebrity of awakening,
the ecstasy of renaissance.
Photo by Ilo Frey
Beautiful Dee! I sit outside a lot and see all kinds of butterflies and moths. They’re so delightful to watch! I have lots of milkweed growing for the Monarch’s. Plus lots of flowers.
Love Donna
Thanks Donna, butterflies seem to populate my writings. I used to have caterpillars when I taught 4 year olds. The first time one emerged from a chrysalis its wings were like beautiful wet draperies. It literally drew a tear from my eye.
This piece is a testament to your expertise and passion for the subject.
Thank you. I think the longer one lives the more important change and growth is. Thank you for the comment, Citlalli.
Just wanted to express my gratitude for this post. It was incredibly helpful.
Thanks Kurt, I am happy to hear that this was useful.
This has given me a lot to think about, in a good way.
Thanks especially Corrine, for that “in a good way”. Don’t know how I missed replying to you earlier. But your comment made me smile today. So I hope you checked back and get my reply.
Thanks for the inspiration.
I am always grateful to hear that something that I have written is inspiring Tyrell. Thank you for your comment.