Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
All summer long they are out there chewing
on something that is unable to shoo away their
multitude of tiny, suckered feet.
Maybe it calls out to the birds,
“Come! Perch here! Eat these!”
And, some birds do, definitely,
wasps with effective yet questionable tactics, those
ladybird beetles that you naively think are
so lovely and kind,
but there are still more
scissoring away at the edges, sculpting, stripping,
all feeling fully entitled to gluttony;
there will be no acknowledgement of sin, oh no,
no repenting, no statements of any kind that
I love them.
Every single one is perfect in its beingness,
and I needn’t struggle with the ethics of it all.
I listened to the evening news.
How much longer until the butterflies emerge?
I’m not sure that I have the patience to wait.
©2014-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press
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