Beetle

Here’s a moist black stone
out of place
and company,
a stranded
upturned little pebble
unappreciated.

From last night’s sudden rainfall;
it’s shell dew-like,
onyx like your Grandmother’s oval ring
just sitting,
blinking
in December’s frost laden garden.

Within its protective jacket
there is movement.
Movement
which twitches, stretches,
stirs alongside
the unconscious of the house-
extending fine legs
across your patio step
it wriggles free from its hiding place.

The beetle
with its winged back-
delicate
like the wide spilling eyes
of confused children- glossy
as newly polished shoes
should be.
You could squish it with one small tap of your heeled boot.

There-
to crawl into the cavities of our minds,
to creep into your thoughts
as you sleep at night-
creating such revulsion.
But now you watch the creature from
the protection of your double glazing;
it’s movements quick, not frightening
but frightened.

Fusing with cold cement terracotta,
it stalks side lines,
disguised amongst your mother’s shrubbery;
beautiful rhododendrons- shivering in the cold.
And
with your solar lamps
like blinding fog lights
stunning,
revealing
its coded wings;
an emerald sheen
ensnares you.

Dispersing your disgust
and the unwelcome shudder
that normally accompanies it
you catch something
of interest here
and the creature seems all that
less
despicable.
Amiable?
The beetle-
small- unthreatening,
shuffles, scuttles out of sight.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: