Sure mariposa is a lovely word,
and psyche packs provocative surprise,
but I declare the English name’s absurd
that calls fantastic insects butterflies.
How do we from the dairy designate
a creature so refined it sips the bloom
and flits on air in faerie featherweight?
What message from that name should we assume?
It’s made of wings like petals in the air.
It flutters down and up again above
the vernal earth, with no apparent care
except for sipping nectar, making love,
imprinting every flower with its kiss,
and propagating metamorphosis.