18 February 2016

Bugged


The morning scene explained it all, last evening’s 
angst impressed in carcasses that spread across 
the floor; the thousand bugs or more was neither 
grand largesse at best imagined as a plague - or 
even less the consequence of open space - we’d 
eaten tea at dusk while seated on the steps - the 
awning lights attracted guests to flutter there and 
celebrate a-wing - and then it rained 

Vague ideas the insect brain is seldom vested to 
assess what’s safe - may’ve suggested they too 
will be okay retreating indoors; another day well-
met we’d say - but this time we had to spray; the 
nett effect perhaps calamity - & yet again there’ll 
be as many staying there quite unconstrained 
© 7 November 2015, I. D. Carswell