i like bugs.
they remind me
that life is important
on a small scale.
even the most frustrating
are beneficial to nature and
our ecosystem wouldn't be the same
without them.

except mosquitoes.
they can **** right off,
the ***** bloodsucking *******.

I was an egg

Then converted to caterpillar

Then becomes a full

Butterfly

As human world

Some of us good

Other makes the world

Goes to be worst

When I come

The sign of spring

Puts its hand

I come with flowers

Open everywhere

The sun shines

The birds appear

The cold gathers

Its clothes

And disappears

For some months

Then return again

My life is short

But I make it good

My wings have colors

To spread the happy

To hide from enemy

As I look like flower

But I can fly

High, high and higher

The good of us

Like the silk worm

They sacrifice themselves

To get evaluate clothes

, the second is the beauty

Who spread the funny.

The worst are cotton worms

Who eats the flowers

Destroy the crops

Getting the farmers

Sad in their times

How we get silk

I will explain

On the following time

we leave the crumbs of our breakfast
on the windowsill, where we can watch
the ants arrive, and carry them away,
to their hills at the base of the maple trees.
they can't talk to us, but we can sense
their tiny gratitudes.
skin against skin, and tongues against
tongues, the glow from our faces is just
enough for the moths to recognize, for
them to want to dance around our heads.
they bask in the light of our love, and we
know they feel it too.
i live to see you smile, the kind of smile
that shines so brightly, like the way a leaf
beetle's shell does, when the sun decides
to hit it in a way that's exactly right.
they don't notice their iridescence, or how
perfect they are.

Yesterday, I decided to go for a run
To do it differently
Not for health, but for fun.

To listen to Earth's animalia sounds
Quadrupeds, Tetrapods, Avifaunas
Open ears, the muses were all around.

Funny how inspiration hits
A word, a sentence, a poem
Hanging with one finger grasped to my wits.

I tried to remember, I tried so hard
String of consciousness, a slayer
Fell the finger, to an elephant graveyard.

Next time I will not foolishly forget
A pad, a pen, some sort of canvas
Lost inspiration leads to regret.

Do you ever sit and listen
     To the bards of daylight
Do you ever sit and listen
     To the ghosts of the night
They both share their poems
Just to a different hue
     Of life