Lady bug, lady bug

Truth can indeed be stranger than just about anything. I’d taken the circuit trail around an extinct volcano in southwest Colorado, when about halfway around, I came to a tree with a 4- inch diameter trunk. The tree was coated in a one-bug deep layer of lacquered red — lady bugs — apparently funneled through a pass here, collecting in an artful display.

 

At the edge of this caldera

in Southwestern Colorado,

a wind-sculpted tree is coated,

wrapped in a sheath of red and black-spotted ladybugs

gathered here where the wind

blows through a long

and undreamed of migration route,

like those maps of flyways

taken by ducks and hawks and songbirds.

But this hidden pathway

is only for six-legged insects

with tiny curved wing-covering red shields

that now make this tree trunk

as jeweled as those cow skulls

trimmed out in dazzling, flat, flaked bits

of semi-precious turquoise.

 

 

1 Comment|Add your own comment below

  1. Jeff,

    I can just see the jeweled tree! Very nice. Thank you.

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