That voyage,
on the Beagle,
I discovered a beginning
Such revolutionary splendor –
The origin of species!

But I begin to wonder,
where is the creator?
I have always found him
in the yawning mouth of the
awakening morning glory.
I find him in the visage
of my Emma, her features
blooming in the sunlight.

But I begin to wonder,
what of the ichneumon wasp,
the unholy, unwilling alliance
with the unfortunate caterpillar?
The horrors of nature?
Where now is this creator?

Surely, he exists.
Can I have a doubt of this?
His species, though,
is far more complex
than that of the
singing mocking bird;
his features less defined
than that of the lumbering tortoise.

Perhaps the detail
of his nature originated
in the mind of mankind.

Have you heard of Ichneumon wasps?
Be glad you're not a caterpillar.
You'd have to be on the lookout for
The Ichneumon wasp--a serial killer.

The wasp will find a caterpillar
And suddenly will quickly surprise it
By stinging it--not to **** it--
Only to shortly paralyze it.

She lays her eggs inside her victim,
Which will eventually serve as food
For the growing larvae within--
The wasp's hungry little brood.

The larvae start with digestive organs
And chomp away on their scrumptious repast,
Somehow knowing that they must save
The heart and nervous system till last.

They keep their caterpillar host
Alive as long as they can, you see.
People say insects can feel no pain.
Would the caterpillar agree?

As Earth's living creatures evolve,
The fight for survival doesn’t seem fair.
Some creatures suffer more than others,
But nature’s indifferent and doesn’t care.

Wasps have predators as well.
Sometimes they're losers; sometimes they're winners.
The prey that escape are the lucky ones.
The unlucky prey become predators' dinners.

-by Bob B (3-10-25)