by Emanuelle Cartagena
Into a fleeting shower of bountiful, boasting raindrops, my face bristles gentle waves amongst the skin in between cleansing pores.
The leaves shake and shimmer their fluorescent greens and oranges, though not enough to make a sound. I witness a group of ladybugs
dancing on the forest floor. They scatter in frantic pace for my quiet steps are like pounding crashes of sound waves to them. Fleeing for all but……
One ladybug froze,
Glows, sings, flaps wings, and waits for,
Me to pick her up.
0 thoughts on “Ladybug”
Interesting contrast between human and bug perspective. I thought at first the poem was from the ladybug’s perspective, but no, that comes with “for my quiet steps are like pounding crashes of sound waves to them.” It’s nice to think that a ladybug would wait for a human to pick “her” up, instead of protest it with a characteristic malodorous poof. A sensitive description of rain on skin, color of leaves, and interconnection with nature.