That beetle I saw
while I weeded in the lush and
   neglected flower bed -

I parted the growth to pull up
   the tall grasses, weed them out

And there was
moving over the cloddy ground
every leg using everything it knew,
through tall stems of weeds and
under a high canopy of perennial flowers
   in bloom -

He had a portfolio tucked under
   his wings.

By his walk
it was plain he carried
all the secrets of his clan
with him.

A field of memories
   too big to leave behind sent him out.
And here he has found his field of plenty.

It's where
I do my gardening.

I'll say this:

I won't be the one to
shut this beetle out of
what was promised since
the rocks began to
   stand still
and the wind
brought it?s first soothing songs
   on the air.

If there is any rejoicing here
we will all do it
    together.

In the shadow of grasses
   of valerian
   geum
   foxglove
   and wild yellow buttercups
   amid mint
   and sweet woodruff,

beetle goes along.

The afternoon light warms
   the path he has taken,
and I hear picnic talk - and if I listen long enough
I can hear small accordions.

The stories they go home with!