The Bugmobile, before being turned into the Boringmobile.

When I took the sign writing off the Bugmobile, the kids dubbed it the “Boringmobile”. A plain white station wagon, like every other plain white station wagon in this land of millions of plain white station wagons.

I promised to do something to try to reclaim a little of the Bugmobile’s former glory, and decided that insect poems meandering around the edges of the windows would be easy and fun to do, and would be a sort of bridge between the Bug Lady who was, and the writer who is.

It has been a year and a half, but I’m finally getting around to the job. Here is the first of the poems for the new, literary Bugmobile.

Butterfly and dragonfly,
Honey bee on clover.
Thrips upon the flower heads,
And syrphid flies that hover.

Mantids hunting in the grass.
Crickets in the garden.
Caterpillars’ silk cocoons,
And beetle wings that harden.

Sparkle, glitter, flutter wing.
Bugs that hop, and bugs that sing.

All these wonders
Here to see.
A gift for you.
A gift for me.