The Fragile Beauty of a Butterfly's Wing
I. First Flutter
Suspended between earth and air,
A living stained-glass window flies,
Each wingbeat scatters morning's prayer
Like dust of dreams across the skies.
Nature's origami art,
Unfolded in the rising sun,
Where time and beauty play their part
In patterns only just begun.
II. Microscopic Majesty
Each scale a universe complete,
Arranged in rows of perfect math,
Where light and color dance and meet
Along the wing's ethereal path.
Nano-prisms catch the day
And break it into rainbow parts,
While iridescence makes its way
Through nature's finest works of art.
III. Metamorphosis Memory
Remember when these wings were dreams
Inside the chrysalis's night,
When transformation's quiet schemes
Turned caterpillar crawl to flight?
Cell by cell, the change occurred,
Like poetry being written new,
Until these wings, so long deferred,
Finally broke the morning through.
IV. Morning's First Test
Wet wings spread hesitant and slow,
Like pages of a sacred text,
While morning breezes gentle blow
The signals of what happens next.
Each nerve and vein begins to feel
The air's caress, the day's warm touch,
As life's great forces slowly seal
The strength these wings will need so much.
V. The Architecture of Flight
Hollow bones like bamboo stems
Support these sails of gossamer,
While tiny scales, like precious gems,
Make every movement shimmer-blur.
Engineering light as breath,
Yet strong enough to ride the wind,
Each wing a study in the depth
Of how perfection's been thinned.
VI. Nature's Palette
No human art could hope to match
These patterns painted scale by scale,
Where evolution's careful catch
Of beauty cannot ever fail.
Orange bright as sunset's heart,
Blue deeper than the summer sky,
Black borders where the patterns start
To tell the story of goodbye.
VII. Wind Dancer
See how it rides the thermal's rise,
Each wingbeat timed to catch the flow,
While underneath, the garden lies
Like patchwork spread out far below.
The physics of its flight defies
Our earthbound understanding still,
As gracefully it cuts and flies
Through air as fluid as its will.
VIII. Time's Touch
How brief these wings will hold their shine,
Each day extracting precious toll,
Until the patterns so divine
Begin to fade and lose control.
Yet even as they tatter-tear,
These wings keep lifting toward the light,
Finding beauty in repair,
In scars that show the cost of flight.
IX. The Gardner's Gift
From flower head to flower crown,
It dances on its nectar quest,
While pollen grains drift softly down
Like golden stars at life's behest.
Each visit leaves a trace of hope
For future gardens yet to bloom,
As wings through summer sunshine slope
To paint life's patterns on time's loom.
X. Scale by Scale
Look closer at the wing's design,
Each tiny scale a perfect piece,
Arranged in rows so superfine
They seem to shimmer without cease.
Like pixels in nature's display,
They catch and scatter every ray,
Creating patterns that convey
Messages too deep to say.
XI. Storm Warning
When thunder growls across the sky
And rain threatens to descend,
These fragile wings must quickly fly
To find a shelter that will tend
Their delicate construction safe
Until the storm has passed away—
Each droplet holds the power to chafe
The scales that make this bright display.
XII. Predator's Eye
The hawk above sees movement's flash,
A signal through the summer air,
While wings that dare the open pass
Must trust in beauty's careful care.
For patterns that entrance our eyes
Serve deeper purpose in their art:
Confusion for the one that flies
To catch and tear these wings apart.
XIII. Evening Light
As sunset gilds the garden's peace,
These wings take on a different glow,
Their colors slowly find release
In light that makes all beauty show
Its truest nature, deep and clear,
Before the night comes stealing in—
Each scale a prism, holding dear
The day that's ready to begin.
XIV. Night's Rest
Folded now, the wings find rest
Beneath a leaf's protective shade,
While starlight seeks but can't divest
The secrets of how they were made.
Dreams of flight still gently move
Through vessels thin as morning's sigh,
As darkness wraps its velvet groove
Around this creature born to fly.
XV. Morning's Promise
First light finds the wings still here,
Though dew has kissed each scale with care,
Until the sun draws crystal clear
The drops that made them briefly share
In water's way of seeing light—
Each droplet holds a rainbow small,
Until the warming day takes flight
And wings respond to beauty's call.
XVI. Life's Lesson
What can we learn from wings so fine
They barely register their weight,
Yet strong enough to redefine
The very air through which they slate
Their path from flower unto flower?
Perhaps that strength lies not in mass
But in the grace to know your power
And trust the currents as they pass.
XVII. The Scientist's View
Through microscope, the scales reveal
Their structured splendor, row on row,
Like solar panels made to steal
The light and transform it to show
Colors that no paint could match,
No artist's brush could hope to find—
Each scale a door with lifted latch
To secrets of the natural mind.
XVIII. Time's Flight
These wings will last their measured days,
Bringing beauty where they go,
Until the final flight displays
The courage of their gentle flow
Through air that knows them passing well,
Through gardens that their presence blessed,
Until the final story tells
Of beauty laid at last to rest.
XIX. Legacy
But in the eggs so carefully
Laid upon the milkweed leaf,
The future waits to set wings free
In cycles beautiful though brief.
Each generation carries on
The pattern set so long ago,
When first these wings learned dawn from dawn
And taught the wind which way to go.
XX. Final Prayer
So let us praise these wings today,
Their fleeting grace, their strange design,
The way they turn the light to say
Things words can never quite define.
For in their fragile beauty lies
A strength that puts our steel to shame:
The power of what briefly flies
Yet leaves us never quite the same.
For beauty dwells in what must pass,
In moments that can't stay for long,
Like morning dew upon the grass,
Or final notes of evening's song.
These wings, so delicate and brief,
Remind us of our own swift flight
Through time that brings both joy and grief,
Yet fills each moment with delight.
So watch the butterfly ascend
On wings that seem too fine to last,
And know that nature does not spend
Her art on things meant to be past
Without a deeper purpose planned
In every scale and pattern placed—
A message we must understand:
That fragile things have special grace.
And in their very brevity,
These wings teach us to treasure more
Each moment of the beauty we
Are given time to witness for
The brief span of our own lives' flight
Through days that pass like butterflies,
Each one a gift of pure delight,
Each one a chance to touch the skies.
