The Lusty Month of - Oh, Get Out

May, you never cease to amaze me.

Freezing, roasting, too cold but also too hot,

Three days straight of rain,

To a week of over-bright sun,

Only to do it again -

On. A. Weekend.

Did you trade places with March, for a lark?

Oh, ha ha, very funny…

Could you, like, knock it off?

Seriously.

I get it, I know, we’re to blame,

But I have some butterflies

That are quite confused,

And I would appreciate being able to release them.

You know, without all the resident boids

Gathering in a feathered circle,

Waiting for the moment

They can start chasing snack-on-the-wing

Without incurring the wrath

Of the Pink Bipedal One.

Why make it more stressful

For an antsy flutter

Who’s been stuck inside for three rainy days,

When he wants OUT, and to go find the ladies?

ALL the ladies?

Flutter flutter flappa flappa!

Chill, dude. Rain. Three days of – rain.

There are no lady flutters out there.

And even if there are any,

They are wisely hiding From. The. Rain.

Could you, you know,

Calm down for a second or two,

And slurp on the mashed orange platter

I put in there for you?

That I had to plop your tongue-feet onto,

So you could figure out,

The orange stuff is food?

Sigh.

Hark, the temp has risen,

And that is sunlight I see!

Your enforced captivity is over!

Let’s… um.

Right.

Let’s take you over to my parents’ house,

Just over the river,

Where the boids don’t know

What a butterfly release is.

Now, come on out-

sproing flap flap flap...

Aaaand you're gone.

Right.

You’re welcome!