I know of only one pie-dish beetle
actively pursuing a longer life
but there may have been
and probably are still others
determinedly engaged in the same
undertaking. Approaching the end
of its year on earth,
turning its flange
to edge off predators, combing
night ground for decaying
vegetable matter,
it considers its diet
and becomes more particular.
How decayed, what species of plant,
how rapidly consumed,
which morsels might prove
restorative, how much time should be
dedicated to resting and dreaming?
Further, it is constantly
working on memories
of close calls and dubious encounters,
learning which insects to avoid,
how to stay away
from nightbirds
and foxes under a burning moon.
With no flight possible, it knows
the ground with an intensity
turned to advantage:
rocks live so much longer and are to be
envied and possibly imitated.
Adapting instinctual
responses and inherited
recall, sharing experiences
with other pie-dishes,
even if self-obsessed.
In the extreme dry
taking summer into winter, its flange
collects the scant dew, converting
it into persistence
and unsentimental
imagery. Pragmatic, determined, visionary.
Tinged blue and searching out blue zones
across the valley-side,
through the public
reserve. Not interested in patents and profit,
this beetle is sure that once its life
goes beyond
the known limit
it will see some point in “letting go.”
I’m not counting the days.
This Issue
November 21, 2024
The Protection Racket
The Crime of Human Movement
Toward a New Realism