Butterflies flutter and flitter
As wasps and bees zip about.
Yet sloths hang heavy
From lofty trees
As languid lions siesta in the shade.

Parched, hot deserts boil like iron in a furnace
Under a merciless sun
While glaciers freeze at the poles
In the black cold dark.

Soft breezes whisper amongst the grass and trees
But on another day the wind howls
Like a Banshee
Tearing those trees up by the roots
In a whirling chaos.

A tiny ant scuttles along the ground
Unaware of the towering Giraffe above
As it stretches its head into clouds of high leaves.

A day of angry black clouds
Is soon followed by a clear blue ocean sky.
For anything that can happen, will happen.
So expect the unexpected.
And glory in it all.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\4\2023.