I watched as your webbed nest grew
In the branch of the front yard tree
A plague of squirming brood
Not that a web of a spidering

Yours was much too thick
As I braved a finger, fear quelled
Skipped on using a stick
Strong and sturdy she held

“Are these caterpillars?”
You asked, I replied
“I think they are.”

You asked for the destruction of civilization
“You need to cut these down.”

“I can’t, I been watching them grow,
Watching this web slowly take over.
Now I see on every tree
When I’m out driving
Their villages
Where they live
Feeding off the leaves
If these are so common
Why are butterflies so rare?”

You responded with no care
“They are ugly, I don’t like them.”
  
I watched the rest of that tree
Be consumed
I hope that plague
Becomes beautiful soon