Stinkbug Climbs on a Rain-Soaked Summer Afternoon
Sunday sonnet
The bug climbs higher through the summer rain.
I feel the weight. A world perched on its back.
Two raindrops are adhered. I ascertain.
One at the top of green shield edged in black
small dots with yellow trim like terrapin
on bug’s broad shoulders, head without a neck.
There’s smaller spots of water spread out thin.
Antennae probe while six legs march on deck.
That large top drop is carried at the spot.
You know. It’s right between the shoulders where
it can’t quite scratch that itch, I thought.
One other large drop, is the bug aware?
Drop hangs down low on fancy coat and tail,
exposing wings, if all those legs do fail.

