August

Spider on a screen

August
and I leave my garden to the bugs.

The mosquitos drove me away, them
and my back being out.

They probably miss me.
They're quick enough to mob me
when I dash through their domain.
They follow me indoors.

But the spiders no doubt are happier
when I don't crash through the webs
so carefully strung across the walkway --
my walkway, and theirs.

The ants are no longer scrambling
out of my way
as I lift a rock,
frantically moving larvae from where
they so precipitously (and unadvisedly,
in my opinion) stored them.

Butterflies, moths, pill bugs, centipedes,
cicadas, gnats, crickets, flies,
free from the natural disaster that is me.
All undisturbed,
among so many insect species,
genuses, families, orders and classes,
industriously preparing for
some imagined day that
we humans leave this Eden
to them permanently.