BUG
The other night while having ‘sup’
Corner-eye seen, on table’s edge
A little bug struggled caught up
Twixt rim and glass, balled up in a wedge
The flick of a finger gave gentle fling
As he tumbled down to the rug
He gave a flutter of his wing
Lo! The tell tale spots of Ladybug
The thought of a child came to me
Could a Ladybug still be a he?
Whether he or she held no sway
Life in the bug was slipping away
Wanting with life to interfere not
I left he-she the struggle to live
Found next morning, in the same spot
Bug’s body had given all it could give
Gently to rest in Kleenex nest
Tossed into a wastebasket tomb
Reflecting the while to my best
Is Life he or she before the womb?
Would bug come back a he or a she?
Is past, present, future the order?
Could it, whirled in time come back as me?
No end is death, merely border
How deeply plunged in mystery
Had the tiny life taken me?
He, she, you and every me
Being itself; every possibility!
