by Sandra Rippetoe © 2021
for insect conservation scientists and volunteers all over the world
Once upon a time in the land of Nature’s-Reason- and- Rhyme
a butterfly named Rozy ‘round her neck wore a chime.
She carried precious cargo, you see, every day.
She saved bugs in distress and took them away
from the land of their problems to a peaceful safe place
to start a new life in a spot filled with grace.
When the bugs heard her chime, they made themselves known
by climbing on top of a smooth flat gray stone.
‘Twas easy to see them and to land without dare.
They climbed on her back. She took off with great care.
One day in early summer,
She picked up a firefly gasping for breath,
“Thank you for coming . . . for sure, I’m near death.”
“Where, please, should I take you?” asked Rozy with tact
as the sick lightning bug crawled up on her back.
Most had no idea as to where they should go
to live their lives safely. They just didn’t know . . .!?
Rozy found, quite by chance, lovely Nature Poem Farm.
It was tucked in a hollow with oh so much charm.
She knew at this place the bugs would not meet harm.
The farmers who lived there respected the land.
They were kindhearted people who thought bugs were grand.
But back to the story of the small ill firefly
now riding on Rozy’s back across the blue sky. . . .
When they got to the farm Rozy slowed down to land
then helped firefly off with her tiny black hand.
What an impression! A landscape so green!
With all kinds of bugs breathing air pure and clean!
Firefly looked all around as she rested on a log . . .
“I see meadow, and forest, and even a bog.
This place is like heaven for each and every bug.
How could I be so lucky?” firefly asked with a shrug.
It was just at that point they began to hear singing
a chorus of insects . . . their glad voices ringing,
“Here at Nature Poem Farm, bugs are right and not wrong.
Everyone’s welcome. All insects belong.
Each bug has a purpose, if we pay attention.
Ancient Mother knew that – it was Her intention.”
The woods then filled up with harmonies so sweet –
the tired firefly danced with all six of her feet.
After a bit of time,
The sick little firefly recovered her health,
in tall grasses hiding, each day, quiet stealth.
She’d climb out at dusk while blinking her light.
It was tiny but bright flashing all through the night.
It lit up the forest. It lit up her home.
So happy was she . . . with no need to roam.
She was thankful for Rozy, “You saved my life!”
Please let me repay you! You ended my strife!”
“Think nothing of it,” said Butterfly Rozy,
“I have greater purpose than perching on posy.”