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With seemingly erratic pattern of flight
It flits neither towards nor from the light
But always searching for the nectar filled flower
Always at the most perfect hour
The wing has come into form
Only three times since the first dawn-
Once in the bird, once in the bat
And once in the insect.
The butterfly has the most beautiful of all
With colors spanning the rainbow.
The iridescent light plays with my eyes
And lets me know that its perfect.
With colors brighter than the rainbow
And patterns most complex in nature
We learn beauty from the smallest of beasts
As it delicately sits on the flower
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