Crocuses grow, in jumbled rows,
Scattered amid, the prairie rose.
Purple Iris now will rise,
Growing neath, the warm blue skies.
Wild bees fly, when it's sunny,
Collecting nectar, to make their honey.
Butterflies will congregate,
The wild flowers, they will pollinate.
Flying under, bright summer skies,
I watch, two mating dragon flies.
The Wild Flower's show, is simply grand,
Bringing beauty, to the prairie land. |
