The butterflies

The flowers are opening though the sky is grey
The butterflies fulfil their inbuilt tasks
While seeming like sweet innocents at play

On hot  flagstones, the little cat will bask
Though one eyes is left open  to the world
With amber bright intelligence, it asks

And should a bird hop by, the cat uncurls
And leaps  so lithely from its seeming sleep;
Akin to acrobats of boys and girls.

To eat or to be eaten is our fate
Else  we  fall to dust inside our shroud.
And there are some who cannot bear to wait.

But do not  think we’re  blinded by these clouds
All things change when all things are allowed