Canvas Wings Poem by Mick Zerr

Colors they are, in specs, strokes and the finest lines
Not invented by any Man, now or past.
Admired, copied, through all the times,
Silent, liquid, but fading fast.

Brilliant orange, crystal black
Yellows and golds, reds, blues and whites;
Showing both on front and back.
Natures palate, delightful sights.

Endless winged patterns fill the air.
Squealing children, adults as well,
As they softly lite in baby's hair.
Like ribbons from the clouds they fell.

Briefly now, all troubles hide
As beauty enters from the skies.
Our faces smile and eyes grow wide,
At nature's canvas, the butterflies.