Butterflies, Birds, And Bees

A swarm of bumblebees proclaim aloud
And demonstrate possession of the fields
By chasing colts through haze of dusty cloud
And even that old tattered scarecrow yields.

But not the butterflies who laugh and smile
While flitting, gliding on those tinctured wings
And patiently await their turn with style;
I wish they'd all last through a hundred springs.

The birds content to just sit in the trees
Surrounding all the fields like tall stockade;
Just perched there in the shelter of cool leaves
Awaiting sundown for their promenade.

I've asked permission many times, "Oh please,
Let me watch butterflies, the birds, and bees."