THE BUZZARD AND THE BUTTERFLY by Jonathan Ward
For many moons around Quenby Hall
The buzzard has ruled the skies
With feathery wing and a plaintive call
High in the sky it soars and flies.
On the mighty wind it glides and hunts
For mouse and rodent and vole
And if one will poke its head from the earth
It will snatch the velvety mole.
Seasons pass, the landscape changes
The animals come and go
The daffodils and croci in Spring
And summer brings the swallow.
And the bees that busy themselves making honey
And butterflies white and red
Crows that fight and shout and scream
As if they've never been fed.
The trees are solid, strong and wise
Are witness to all that has passed
To the might buzzard that rules the skies
That defends its terrain to the last.
The buzzards have young, one or two
Which must feed and feed and feed
On insects and flies while still very young
But to bigger prey this does lead.
From time long ago there is a sacred agreement
Between buzzard and butterfly
That in springtime when buzzard chicks need food
The butterfly is prepared to die.
The oak had witnessed the sacred contract
And observed how things had fared
In exchange for their noble sacrifice
Many butterfly lives were spared.
Thus it passed that both did prosper
For thousands and thousands of years
Until one day a new arrival
Lisped into the buzzard's ears.
"The butterflies are meeting en masse
And are going to break the seal
On the long held agreement between you both
Which will mean there will be no more deal".
But this wasn't true the snake had lied
And was up to its selfish tricks
To anger the buzzard so it would fly off in rage
So the snake could devour its chicks.
In vengeful mood the buzzard descended
The butterflies to destroy
And up slid the snake to the buzzard's nest
Intensely proud of its ploy.
The buzzard swooped and lashed and cried
The butterflies tried to flee
But the noise and the mayhem soon took its toll
And there were left but three.
The bird rose high to make a last dive
And finish off the lunch
The butterflies hid behind the oak
Which the buzzard hit with a crunch.
A broken wing, the bird lay flat
The butterflies heaved a sigh
But relief was short, as overhead
The crow started to cry.
"The buzzard's young are much in danger
The snake is climbing higher
To eat up your chicks, swallow the lot
The slithering cheating liar."
Unbeknownst to the bird the butterflies
Had learnt the power of healing
With flaps of their wings, their magical powers
Gave back the wing its feeling.
'The snake's almost there", came the squawk of the crow
The buzzard felt all was lost
'My precious babies are almost gone
The things I value the most'
But the butterflies had not given up
The bird was back to its best
With towobeats of its wings it rose in the sky
And headed towards its nest.
It caught the snake just in time
The chicks were safe and sound
It threw the slithery, slimy thing
Back down to the ground.
So trust what you know from time long ago
Instead of the voice in your ear
For the slithery slimy toxic thing
Will prey on your deepest fear.
loveJonathan WardUnited Kingdom