POEM: The King of Orange
The monarch butterfly’s enigmatic migration
August 26, 2026
By Sue Shaw
Maine’s most recognizable butterfly was named for King William III of England who was known as the Prince of Orange. Photo by Leslie Clapp.
Behold, the monarch butterfly!
We smile to see it flutter by...
The orange and black--that well-loved sight
In milkweed-searching, flitting flight..
The orange and black are diagnostic,
Tell predators that they are toxic!
So monarchs travel safe and free
And other creatures let them be!
This monarch's a migration King,
And although it will never sing,
It has a plan...it knows its route..
Of that there's not a bit of a doubt!
The generations travel north,
Until the last one sallies forth,
And makes its way to Mexico.
A miracle! How does it know?
How comprehend and understand
This journey to another land?
How understand its situation?
The ins and outs of its migration?
Two thousand miles through bright blue sky,
On gossamer wings the monarchs fly...
Through storms and winds--through cool fall air...
And when at last they all are there,
They just 'hang out' in clumps in trees
And dance in tropic winter breeze.
This single generation knows
To travel south before it snows
They stay in place till winter's through...
And then in spring, what do they do?
Somehow they know--they know just when
Migration's scheduled to begin!
So they start back north across the nation... Thus...monarch butterfly migration!
—Shaw lives in Penobscot.
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