Seeker Magazine

The Bugs are Back

by Ellenodale

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The bugs are back, I swear it's true
A beetle flew with wings of blue
And settled on my windowsill.
I watched, while sitting very still.
It tracked across the sunny ledge,
And perched upon the very edge,
And as we sat, the bug and I,
I came to wonder, by and by,
When winter comes, and cold winds blow,
Where do the bugs and crawlies go?

Do they migrate like the birds,
Flying to the south in herds
Of whirring wings bright in the air
To visit friends and cousins there?
And play upon a sun drenched wall
At Shufflebug and Beetleball?

Or do they burrow in the ground
To sleep till springtime comes around,
Wrapped snugly in their tiny beds
With summer dreams inside their heads?
How do they know when to wake up
Before the robins eat them up?

And while I try to think this out
My mother enters with a shout,
"Don't keep the windows open wide,
You're letting all the bugs inside!"
And so I gently shut the screen,
The beetle jumped, and flew between.
I watched him fly off in the sun..
The bugs are back, and spring's begun!


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Letter to the Editor:
Cherie Staples <SkyEarth1@aol.com>