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The Praying Mantis
by Fred Miller
Pray, dear mantis, are your limbs bent in contrition?
Perhaps this is just a sign or a sin of omission.
When I see you still as a statue, could you be praying,
or maybe you’re a mom who’s paused for egg laying?
Most eyes quite deceived would swear they see a mirage.
Arms tucked tight, you seem so invisible; what camouflage!
The neat way your verdant color blends in so well.
Are you silent in thought or just waiting? So hard to tell.
Why, so motionless you are, it’s a wonder you don’t tan.
Is a tasty tidbit part of your future plan?
If your prey could see you, I’d bet they’d stop and shout,
“Oops, a predator straight ahead. Better take a new route.”
Ah, could that be a bug lunch approaching on wing?
Ah, yes! Once you are sated can I expect you to sing?
No? Perhaps you could hop on my hand in a spritely dance.
For you, I’ll whistle a new tune and watch you prance.
In awe, I see you twist about in contortions.
No way on this earth could I replicate those distortions.
Each time I try, my limbs end up in kinky knots.
Someone, please help me unwind; I’ve tried, I’ve tried lots and lots.
The ancients were quite sure you had miraculous powers.
Well, all I can see is you hiding in flowers.
No doubt bored with my wonder, you’re off in a leap.
Your sleek proportions fill a memory I’ll always keep.
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.