A Conference under the Sun

A weed, an insect and I

In a conference under the sun.

On the Lantana, flowers.

Pink, white and violet They snuggle in bunches Looking up at me like children In awe of a giant.

Thorns prick my fingers The stalk taut, lean like a whip Refuses to oblige my hands Trying to clear a path.

Then, glinting in the sun This little Ladybird on a leaf. Legs drawn up under the shell She sits still, as if hoping I wouldn’t see her.

Ah, little one! Not to notice you? I would be blind!