Simpler Days
by MFrostDelaney

A quiet memory, the farm at dawn…

When Monarch butterflies were all the norm,
their flitting, dodging bees who made a swarm
around the berries growing in the field.
The tallest grass would always bend, then yield
to horses turning to the pasture's growth—
first Mums, then Junior came to graze, and both
were so content, their tails brushed flies away.
And from the woods, the callings of the jays,
who sang their codes in clicks and whirrs and notes,
a mimicry of sorts, their stunning coats
of blue and white and black distinguished them.
In kinder days, when nature wore such gems…

Who knew that in one lifetime they'd be gone?

 

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