Butterflies

Both blown and thrown a path in skies,
Confetti wings to make them rise,
A masterpiece or warning signs,
War paint worn so as to survive,
To swim in light then disappear,
Seen but on prized days of the year,
Crowded amongst the lavender,
Flirting with some quaint wild flower,
Colour in an ocean of blue,
Another season they won't suit,
Tied with countryside thoughts of youth,
Just out of a child's reach one flew,
After love in opposing winds,
Basking until the chase begins,
Dancing to the song nature sings,
At home amongst beautiful things.