The Mantis
The swarm behind the glade, this munching ascendancy, takes to seek while measure grieves. Be comma whom light tells, to be as branches hovering in vale.
They scale dew as low as stubble, this quiet shows itself, the glade winds for all to take; there one should sleep outside and twist, cave and tactic unwound adjusted— each bravery upon boughs reign.
- Marianne Moore