Box Elder Nymphs

A nature poem by my friend Kate E. It appeals to my fantastical view of nature, kind of like Toy Story where everything is alive the second you close the door and freezes back into place whenever you enter. Except, of course, that Box Elder Nymphs are real, a kind of little black bug with red markings. This poem actually makes me a little sad, if we consider that the nymphs' habitat is slowly shrinking.

Box Elder Nymphs

 

In the prairies,

the wild lands

that still exist.

 

In the prairies

we have not yet turned

into houses or shopping malls,

paved over for parking lots,

 

they reside in patches

of green and shadow

leaves and flowers

that sway.

 

I can almost hear

the scurry of a thousand

tiny feet, little legs

in constant motion.

 

Like a family of children

they playfully roll,

tumbling over each other,

their brothers and sisters.

 

Brilliant red against

the dirt and decay

bright signs of life that

let us know,

 

they are alive and vibrant,

yet, so small

confined to their home

never aware of the greater world.