The Buckeye Confesses

I must confess, O Son of Man,
I am merely a Buckeye Butterfly.

I fly upon the Summer breezes,
And pass most my life 'bove the land.

But, whilst flitting from flower to flower,
I have seen the work of your kind.

I have seen my kin growing scarcer,
As well as the plants on the land.

And, I must confess, O Son of Man,
I have heard of better times in the past.

For once upon a time,
The air was free from exhaust.

And once upon a time,
The land wasn't lathered in pesticides.

And Once upon a time, not so very long ago,
The waters ran laughing without chemicals.

So, I must confess, O Son of Man,
Much damage has been done at your hand.

For once upon a time...

Once upon a time...

And not so very long ago...

Roger Allen Baut