And off it flys fickle
Darting to and froe
In marvelous movements
As if a tiny trained trickle
Of water, determined destination
Gravity's drawing design
Upon a pebble-piled beach
A denizen in a specific sphere
Where the blue touches green
Flittering, flickering about
As if in aimless anarchy
Upon a meandering mission
Sipping nectar systematically
Through a siphoning straw
As if terribly intoxicated
On the wayward wing
Fluttering, flittering continuously
On its dainty delicate course
It's a thankless, thirsty life
For a little Sulphur Butterfly