The Butterfly

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I woke up in the morning
To the sound of falling rain
And in this early dawning
It was time to rise again

The wind was urgent calling
Massaging bending tree
While sparrows rising falling
Flew confident and free

The boiling clouds stood frowning
While lightning kissed the ground
And garden plots were drowning
As frog choirs raised their sound

But flexing holding steady
One butterfly stood ground
To greet the day when ready
And nature’s peace was found

The storms of life may thunder
But patience bids you hold
And watch with silent wonder
The bright sunlight unfold

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2012 All rights reserved”

15 Comments

  1. I love this! Excellent choice of words! It is so lovely and it flows so gracefully. It has excellent structure or rhythm.

    Like

  2. Very nice poem, Ian. What I like about your poetry is that it not only tells us something, that is quite normal, one shouldn’t write if one has nothing to say, but that it is technically very good. Most of the poetry published here doesn’t have structure or rhythm. Does that make it bad poetry? No, but when it would be music, one could say it is pop, while poetry that is also technically sound is more like classical music, it has extra dimensions.
    Love, Steph.

    Like

    1. I know what you mean Steph. I can appreciate poetry which does not rhyme but to me it has to have rhythm. That may be joyful or somber in it’s expression but it has a flow which is companion to music.

      Like

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