A Monarch butterfly, regal wanderer,
flies from the bottom of the world over
field and meadow, prairie and city, her
migration secret, always unfollowed.
Such rarity, a welcome migrant in
a hostile land, queen of all her domain.
Dark-veined, extravagant, she flies on stained-
glass wings of ochre, tawny citrus and the
darkest ebony. She craves the sweetest
milkweed, not for her the parched aridity
of stony common land laced with groundsel,
or ragwort, that noxious old-man-of-the-spring.
For scarcity value she is priceless;
no-one’s familiar, no mere butterfly
which is quickly viewed and soon forgotten