You see them oft this time of year
As earth turns dark and cold
Bugs dancing a frenetic pace

What drives them crazy? Is it fear
Of dying ‘fore they’re old
Being omega of their race?

When evening comes so fast and hard
When surface becomes too still
Sky purple/pink with blood

Are they like me once playing cards
Hoping time to ****
Houseman’s cow contented with its cud?

Rhymed to death before its time
By A.E.’s most depressing verse
Assuring though we die, that we die old

Why do we insist on rhyme
That life’s a blessing, death a curse-
A lie the the poets have forever told

So little bugs, please stop and listen
No need to be like Mirthridades
All one must do is to be still and know

Be still and let your cold death christen
Peace in Heaven and in Hades
You don’t have to go on with the show