A Bug's Life

A red dot with black spots navigates in a waving green sea

          Trying desperately to keep her head above water.

A shiny black carapace with six nimble feet ascends to Base Camp

          On a mountain range of roots that have no end.

Twin wings beat furiously with the chugging of a busted engine 

          To keep a rotund body aloft amidst clouds of blooms.

A train of legs, hundreds upon hundreds, follows the tracks

          Running through valleys of dust and deep canyons of grey stone.

An eight-legged seamstress works for her supper by quilting

          Silver shining fibers, fine as hair, into spiraling patterns.

Something miniscule and green cries out clamorously to be heard by the vast world

          But all that comes out is inscrutable buzzing.

          Only the towering grass knows of his brief existence.