The Insect Sonnets (an occasional series) by Paul Brookes

Fevers of the Mind

Dragonfly, Insect, Wings, Winged

1. Sweet Pollen

Bigger wing beat gusts me from sweet pollen
billows, I must stick to its surface amid
buffet and blast. Now heavier, taken,
away from scented trail back home I skid.
Track my trail through vibration pulses, map
I will dance when home is reached to tell all
where sweet pollen will be found, waggle tap
the route after unloading my food haul.
As light fades our head sensors flop, my legs
wrap around others, I rehearse my days
forage, retrace my flight, my complex steps
mark vibration changes that radiate.
Bright warmth lifts our heads from sleep to again,
find our memory way, avoid harsh rain. 

2. We Poisoners l Ingest, store poison for feathers, her. Changed in white she must be stillness. I wait outside her cocoon, her wings fettered, unstretched, un-inflated, I pass fullness, into her with a generous capsuled gift, attracted by her poison…

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