Uncle Caterpillar
was munching on a leaf,
chewing slow, stubborn,
settled in his belief.

“I need something sweet,”
he muttered with a sigh,
then looked up and blinked—
a flash of wings flew by.

“Why do you look so weird?”
he asked with a frown,
staring at his nephew
as he fluttered back down.

The butterfly smiled,
his colors soft and grand,
“I don’t look weird.
I look transformed,” he said, and took a stand.

Uncle Caterpillar scoffed,
stuck in his caterpillar lane,
“Why change at all
when the leaves are just the same?”

“You’re so different now,”
he said, shaking his head.
“I hardly recognize
the bug I once fed.”

“That’s because I am different,”
his nephew replied,
spreading glassy wings
that shimmered with pride.

“Watch me,” he said,
then soared to the sky,
to flowers rich with nectar
Uncle could never try.

Uncle Caterpillar
stayed low, chewing leaf,
still wondering why change
had stolen his nephew’s belief.

But the butterfly danced
where the other fellow butterflies grew,
in a world full of color
that Uncle never knew