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Butterfly: A miniature on the wing

With flush of new rays
She comes along ever prompt
And greets my first sights -
Perching softly on my pane,
Waving fondly to morn's reign.

Veiled by mist, she stills,
Letting the virgin hues calm
In their assigned metes;
Soon a plush canvas she flaps -
A dreamscape that lets time lapse!

Each day art anew -
Splashed at times in raspberries,
Oft lilacs or gold;
Each tone a rarest tender -
No man perhaps could render.

Whose art I wonder
And what grand vistas beholds,
Wherefrom this palette
Abound with nuance is drawn,
And how strokes get fine thereon.

Whilst quest meandered,
A mild breeze bears her away
From streams and dales nigh
To skies, where dewy moonbeams
Prime her canvas for new themes.

Sep 30, 2012