Don't you think it's probable
that beetles, bugs, and bees
talk about a lot of things---
you know, such things as these:
The kind of weather where they live
in jungles tall with grass
and earthquakes in their villages
whenever people pass!
Of course, we'll never know if bugs
talk very much at all,
because our ears are far too big
for talk that is so small.
The House of the Mouse
The house of the mouse
is a wee little house,
a green little house in the grass,
which big clumsy folk
may hunt and may poke
and still never see as the pass
this sweet little, neat little,
wee little, green little,
house in the grass.
~Lucy Sprague Mitchell (1878-1967)
When I read these poems now, I hear my Mom's voice. June is (or will be if the weather ever clears) a great time to lie in the grass and look for bug villages, and at last I have some little people around to go exploring with me.
Here is the coding if you want a button and a link to this week's Friday Poetry Round-up hosted at The Simple and the Ordinary:
:: this post is included in the poetry round-up over at The Simple and the Ordinary