Monarchs in December
T’was the week before Christmas, and throughout the sky
There were too many, colorful Monarchs in flight.
Come December, they should be south of the border,
Clustered in Michoacán, where they quarter.
On the ground, snakes slithered to visitor’s dismay,
As kiskadees sounded alarms, screaming, “Hey!”
The spring mist was blooming, ahead of its season,
And folks said, “Well, climate change must be the reason.”
In decades of Decembers, we’ve never seen linger
So many Monarchs that don’t overwinter
At the National Butterfly Center.
We see ice caps are melting and forests are burning,
While habitat's shrinking for logging and housing.
We see record-high temperatures signal a future, uncertain,
With more severe weather and dust bowls and famine.
Historic tornadoes carve a path through a nation
Already divided by misinformation,
Where the word of the day is UNPRECEDENTED;
But the perilous path's already cemented…
When brigands and bulldozers rolled in without warning,
We stood against them, in spite of the taunting,
Because people and pollinators are locked in a dance
That leaves little—if anything—up to chance.
Now, healthcare, immigration and childcare in crisis,
In a country that claims to love Christ, truth and kindness.
Instead, we get, “Stick to butterflies you lefty shitheads,”
From self-appointed reps of all things red,
Who no longer bother with lame-brained calls
Of “Butterflies can fly over walls!”
What will it take for people to see
Our survival depends on the least of these?
©National Butterfly Center 2021
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