Monday, October 20, 2014

Of Apple Blossom and Orthodera novaezealandia



Is it a sign of senility
or maturity
that I don’t notice
the helicopter flying low
because I am absorbed
in the apple blossoms,
in how the pink buds
of the eating apple
are so much softer
than the vibrant red
of those of the cooking apple;
and that the old barn
is of interest
not because of people
and possible adventures
but because
of the praying mantis nymphs
struggling
to escape their egg case,
and the spider’s web
threaded across it?