Good bug year:
Daddy Longlegs
on a wet paint wall,
Crane Fly waiting
for me to dry
and hang my towel
back, herds of Earwigs
hiding between the leaves
of artichokes, and bitter
gnats drowning
in my uncovered wine.
Most don’t bite
but feed the Phoebes
and one another
in the springtime,
summer, fall.
Hatch upon hatch,
I dream of casting
to eddies, riding riffles,
the splash and set
of hook, playing
and landing trout
if there were
any rivers running.
drycrikjournal 