Living in their mad homicidal world beneath the soil
munching devouring consuming, antennae probing and strobing
the multi-legged strangers weed and seed and feed beyond our sight.
They are fellow travelers with you and I, these aliens.

Acculturated to the rocky underbelly, cellars deep and dark
cracks and crevices, harsh and hot terrains,
fallen trees, below beyond between
hidden from site they chomp and munch and breed.

Some strut that underworld bearing hardened shields fortified like tanks.
There too, tiny five-eyed monsters sit slyly spying prey to sup.
Built into many the tools to grasp and tear
they stun and poison
some shoot deadly darts, sticky glue, and silk threads that entomb
pokers pinchers prodders, their stores are filled with hardware.

When wandering beyond their borders and falling into ours,
we jump for fear of them, despite their size and ours.
Women scream (not all) and men respond brutally (again, not all)
&#8211 chasing and killing the interloper
Sometimes they are eaten!

And yet I know these hairy leggy scary things exist as I exist
Their claim to life as good as mine
I think about their place primordial, and believe they fear my deadly ways.
Two worlds existing side by side, one tame one wild.
But which one?

They live in the dinosaur age. Can we be dinosaurs?
Those tiny creatures crawling blade to blade, grass 20 times taller than they
chewing fighting killing entwining, epic battles fought.
We do not exist on equal scale with them
Countless species proliferating there, and spinning webs here
I see them down there now churning and chewing and turning the soil
…. helping the worms …
…. who are they …?

Contemplating Insects