Midge-flies jockey continuously for open space
in the sunny fall air of my backyard. They seem
to be quarreling, or bickering, and I wonder
what their purpose is in the insect world. A wasp
lumbers through their midst, long hind legs dangling
with gravid weight, inspecting its environment.

Butterflies flitter in unfathomable patterns, all jerky
and right-angled, until they meet, and spiral up
and around each other, and down, again, above
the late-blooming flowers. A honeybee slowly
maneuvers through daddy-long-leg webs along
the bottom edge of the tiered garden, draping
the vinca vines and spearmint plants that have
escaped their planted boundaries with
skewed-lattice-threads.

Cats wander in and out of the scene, either towards
the back door, or up the small side yard to the front,
or climbing the cliff to the desert shrubbery above,
going about cat business. A warm wind rustles
the leaves in the tree over my head and sets the
hook-hanging flower baskets swaying with
gentle shiftings, while beyond their forms the
midges continue their mid-air battles.

A diversity of butterflies comes and goes, driven by some
natural knowledge only they understand. The breeze
flickers sun-silver on the strung out construction
of webbed-housing, hypnotizing with their fragile strength.
The day is desert warming, and now cats head for their
favorite shaded day-beds, reaching up to rub against
toes hanging over the picnic table seat in passing. One
pushes through a large web, to its owners agitation,
and lies behind the enclosure of foliage hanging over
the garden’s wall. Occasionally, flies and bees buzz
by my head, droning past me on insect missions
of flight, enjoying Autumn's backyard day.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Photo by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 9/23/05