The Refused Grasshopper

 

With lumbering stealth,
My new shoes crunching the too-early dew,
I approached the daylily.

I had set the camera to macro, and
Bending forward to do the deed
I signaled an insect resting upon the lily.

I shot.

Then, with quick amateur instinct,
I forgot the lily, began
To shoot the insect itself,
Realizing that the insect belonged to the plant,
Was challenging the plant for importance,
Would soon fly off and mate,
Charging its anonymous children
In a wet and mysterious kiss
To return and suck upon the children
Of this very plant.

Later,
After the shooting,
After the posing, cropping, level-fixing,
I faced the mundane:
How do I name this visitor?

______________________

Jim Bolner, Sr.
August 2, 2002