I guess they are signs of change,
Those butterflies in the wind.
Who would think such fragility,
Such anxious fluttering
And felt frailty,
Can, in the season,
Fly miles in the thousands
To find their needs?
And this is the season.
The winds change.
There is warmth
Touching us.
And the butterflies
Take wing
For new homes.
So my heart takes wing too,
Anxious for their success
In the winds of fortune
And the changing seasons.
Fragile as they are,
Life in them knows
The way.

Copyright ©2002 Tony Crisp