Lepidoptera

The title gives this poem away.

There's a spirit in nature,
beyond valley's,
and mountain's,
and river's
that devotedly find their way to the sea.

A nymphe of the woodland's,
a daydream,
floating softly,
upon fragile wing's
wherever passion roams free.

An angel of the meadow,
a fountain of color,
song-birds
serenade her
like a choir from the tree's.

A fairy of the garden,
a serene kind of magic,
as saplings
and blossoms
burst forth from their seeds.

A sweet and gifted maiden,
reborn to social graces,
gently dancing
upon flower's
to a swaying of the breeze.

A mystic and prophet
of knowledge
and healing,
unspoken word's
that the purest heart can see.