A beetle has ensconced itself on my stoop.
As beetles go, it's a little square.
One feeler seems to have gone missing,
and I can't see it move by as much as a hair.
But its shell-like back is so vibrant.
So beautiful, that were it a pair,
and a little bit less alive,
I would clip it to my jacket
and wear it to work, I swear.

Some say such beauty is wasted.
That color and glitter are illusions.
If that's how they want it, pooh,
I say, pooh.  Beetle here and I
know Ordinary can iridesce.

Got one more thing to get off our chests
(beetle equivalent for you literary types):
To put it politely, So there.

Phyllis Jean Green, Autumn,2003
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