Or, a song for the open road
Splutter by,
Butterfly,
Splutter on my windscreen;
Your stomach and
Your antennae
Slide in a pulpy greenish sheen,
Past my wipers
And my sill
Past the roaches, mozzies, flies,
Into my engine
Through the grill -
And there at last you lie.
Why did you die,
O butterfly,
Were you brave or crazy?
You could have let
My car pass by
But you went kamikaze,
And then into
My lane you flew;
Your fate, beyond prevention -
Just one more in-
-sect victim of
Vehicular momentum.
Splutter by,
Butterfly,
Splutter on my windscreen;
Your stomach and
Your antennae
Slide in a pulpy greenish sheen,
Past my wipers
And my sill
Past the roaches, mozzies, flies,
Into my engine
Through the grill -
And there at last you lie.
Why did you die,
O butterfly,
Were you brave or crazy?
You could have let
My car pass by
But you went kamikaze,
And then into
My lane you flew;
Your fate, beyond prevention -
Just one more in-
-sect victim of
Vehicular momentum.
10 comments:
I like the third stanza (is that the right word?) in particular.
And why are people no longer commenting much? I think people don't want to disturb your new domestic bliss.
Comments come and comments go. I've been a bit quiet anyway, but I'll pick up the pace as the year goes on.
He should have stayed on the mushroom smoking and talking to Alice.
A good observation. Excellent, even. It could apply to either the butterfly *or* myself.
Apart from the fact that I've never smoked.
Or known anyone called Alice.
Pshaw! Facts are the hobgoblin of small minds, or whatever was said by whoever said it.
OMG this takes me back! I was travelling in your benighted country this time last year. The monstrous size and diverse array of bugs and butterflies we caught in the campervan grill* was astonishing (and a bit astonished, looking at their little faces)
*The one on the front, not the one inside
Yes, it's true, we are benighted, but only half of the time. The other half, we're bedayed.
And I know the locusts are annoying, but where else are they going to stay, in between all those plagues and smitings that God keeps on sending them out on?
Now that I come to think of it, if you scrutinised your grill carefully after the trip you would probably be able to deduce where you had been at any one time, like an archeologists, merely by picking out the corpses of particular insects, determining where they came from, and their state of decay.
Yeah, we did little else.
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