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