by Leslie Balch
(United States)

The flapping of wings never heard
Not as loud as a bird
Silky and smooth,it's wings do fly
Fluttering gently, softly by
To land on a flower
Fragrant and sweet
In the dewey summer's heat
Sapping away the nector of nature
To carry on it's nomenclature
For many generations who will come to live
They'll enjoy the gift the butterfly will give

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