Drifting low, above the ground
Upon a rose bud is where I found
A butterfly resting quietly, with wings
 of gold and purple rings.

Fluttering high up in the sky
Butterflies soar, just right on by
My eyes are closed, but I can see
 the colors of gold and purple wings.

Poem by Ann,Mtn. Grove, Missouri, Age 15

Orange and black and sometimes spots is what a butterfly is.
First a caterpillar, then a butterfly, that's how it is.
Red, yellow, orange, black, and white.
Wings soft as petals while in flight.
As grace to a swan, it dances in the air.
Dances here, dances there, dances everywhere.
To be free as a butterfly, to fly in the air.
Oh how I wish I could be there.

Tasha, Mtn. Grove, Missouri,2nd Grade

Butterfly wings pound quickly against the door.
"Let me in Big Giant, it is you whom I adore.
Please Mr. Giant, let me in, here comes the wind and, oh, how it will roar!"
Slowly, creaking, Mr. Giant opens the door.
Here comes the rain and, oh how it pours!
But Mr. Butterfly is finally inside, away from the pouring, roar!

Emily, Cabool Elementary School, 1997, Age 8

One day a mother butterfly fluttered down to lay her egg.
"Why, this is a nice green leaf," she said
For my soon to be daughter Paige.
Why, she is so beautiful, she no longer is an egg,
She has turned into a larva instead.
(I am not sure, but I think I will name the next one Meg).
But anyway, back to the story. Winter was very near,
But have no fear,
Pupa is here!
The mother butterfly sat and waited.
I wonder when she will come outside,
The mother gasped with happy cries.
Out came so called Paige
With screaming rage.
TEACH ME HOW TO FLY!

Sarah, Cabool Elementary School, 1997, age 8