They do not graze in meadows.
Nor do they stare listlessly
over fences at traffic .
None , to my knowledge ,
are brindled or patchwork .
Few , if any , have horns
or tails to swish flies with .
I have never heard one moo .
Nor been charged by one
when I crossed its path .
They may see red
but are little sought after
by toreadors .
Yet they are big .
And they do pack a bite.
We drove to the Buddhist temple
A hot breeze blew in
From the north.
Clouds of insects rose
One, a fly, landed on my nose
And would not
I gave it the good old Aussie salute *
A few times
To no avail,
Making me wonder whether
One should swat
A Buddhist fly
Or merely contemplate it?
The Buddha looked on.
aussie salute = a brush of the hands to ward off bush flies pic courtesy of Pexels.com by Daniela Ruiz
the Maserati of the insect world
they leap from dawdle to dash
in one second flat
at one moment hovering helicopters
the next fighter planes
daredevil pilots at the controls
coupling in mid-air as if refuelling
how do they do it?
sex on the run
& here comes junior, red-headed
as a matchstick, parents in tow,
learning the ropes
I came across a stricken Xmas beetle on my walk along the lake.
Somehow it had toppled over and was swivelling on its back like a break dancer, its little legs paddling the air.
Ants swarmed over it,
I grabbed a leaf and flipped the beetle over.
Ants leapt off, a black sizzle of anger..
I flipped it a few more times till all the ants had let go, then I stood back and as it rose into the air. the sun glinting off its sheeny wings, it looked back and seemed to give a little wave.
pic courtesy of Wiki Commons
I used to go down to the pond at the end of our street to write poems about dragonflies the way Monet would go down to his garden at Giverny to paint water lilies.
The only difference was that dragonflies didn’t stay still like waterlilies did. They dashed and darted about the pond at 100 ks an hour. Even when they had sex they had it on the wing coupling like planes fueling mid- flight. You had to admire them though they were devilish to tie down.
I almost got one once when a dragonfly dawdled on the front doorknob one drowsy afternoon, after summer rains, then saw me and took off, its gossamer wings flashing rainbows.
I was watching ants filing back and forth the other day
When two stopped for a chat; and I wondered how it was
They knew each other seeing they all look the same; and I
Concluded they must have individual features like us:
Hooked noses, for instance, bushy eyebrows, little pot bellies
And carry nicknames like ‘Shorty’, ‘Ginge’ or ‘Spike’
And further ants must have little to say seeing they say it
So quickly, but mostly I wondered where ants are off to
All the time; it is hard to imagine them doing yoga, or chilling
Out at the cricket or at the beach in a deckchair or anywhere
Else for that matter.