Sunday, December 30, 2012

Bronwyn Lovell

     (the phases between molting
in the development of an insect)

You will wear several skins
and outgrow all of them.
You’ll sense the pull of
tightness before

the fabric splits.

So leave them behind you
like plastic wrappers,
or human dresses
discarded in the rain.

Feel the relief
of each release,
the freedom
to expand again.


Curious light-footed
creatures of the sky,

in a journey
of generations

everyone knows the way:
south ahead of the first frost,

then wheel north again.

Your antennae: one magnetic compass
guiding you back to the same trees

your great-great-grandparents knew
or, if the winds are right, you could

escape tradition: fly somewhere
entirely new.


Like everything, it comes back
to reproduction. You must
live long enough to do it.

Your colours –
for all their allure
are merely

a camouflage, a warning,
a way to impress.
We might migrate

or even sleep long and still
like icicles
through winter frost

but once mated
not one of us will live
to see our young.

No comments:

Post a Comment