by Kevin T McEneaney
I regret to report today’s problem:
large party of asparagus beetles
whooping it up, consuming all green fronds,
so long stalk leaves look like gray skeletons
waving fond farewell to passing rain clouds,
who are whimsical, uncaring phantoms,
according to reports by my spy plants
who secretly record all of Nature
when I am not mating plants to enhance
the biological future of mankind.
As a child I loved all wingèd insects
because I wanted to fly high like them,
undergo magic metamorphosis,
which I have now achieved in old age…
