Bellwether Beetles
Tiny flecks of red dance across artificial rivers of powdered grain, their movements halted only by the confusing steps of a familiar other. The speed
Insects
The Dance of the Dung Beetle
A sharp aroma seeps across the sky, You scurry to its source; Working quickly to carefully craft A sustaining sphere of pungent spice. With cargo
Growing Pains
You glide across your silky precipice, Enticed by spasms at the edges of your kingdom; You see nothing, Just a loose thread caught in the
Spiralling Down
Walking backwards we follow Your trail of malevolence. Random doodles scrawled across the Loose soil lead us back to your nest, Where empty sacs of
Twisted Love
Emerging from my host now fully grown, I test my twisted wings on freedom short; Then start my search for your sweet pheromone, And spy
Some Bed Bugs are Chromophobic
These parasitic insect pests, Crave sanctuary that is sanguine; As most unwelcome, picky guests, They flee the hues of gold and green. Lilac and
Do Not Go into Artificial Light
Do not go into artificial light, Our lamps can bring an end to fragile life; Fly, fly away into the shrouded night. Your passion
She Refuses to Help But Still You Try
You reflect happily on times gone by, On parents that raised you the best they could. Her early life was damaged; you won’t pry.