by Patti McCarty
The heat of day now past, I sit and wait
for lightning bugs, whose luminescent glow
commences summer’s oratorio
of crooners who are searching for a mate.
As caterpillars nestle in silk tents,
secure in their encampment in the trees,
the frogs and crickets chant doxologies
preceding an exchange of sacraments.
Soon he appears, the green Lothario
who beckons to a bashful ingénue.
With chafing carapace he cries, I do!
The diva hesitates; it’s touch and go.
The insect world’s alive tonight, abuzz.
I hold my breath to see if Katy does.