Insects

A city of insects,
commuting through the air:
the Doppler shift
of a passing buzz
a reminder we’re the pests

who aren’t in charge.
Without a single bee,
there’s no you and me;
without a human being,
the world would be serene.

They are the world,
its living circuitry;
more than just ‘belonging’,
but the Earth itself.
‘Simple’ is an art

more complex than we
who squash ourselves
beneath our feats
and write poetry
in despair.

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Seagulls

A snow-dome shaken,
a slow Big Bang,
a dimension fulfilled,
an ecstasy of ticker-tape,
banknotes of confetti
spinning down from Heaven,
buoyant till the end –
a row of origami.