Bugs Hypothosis

the sky is a swirl of glowing things
each one catching the sun
seeds and insects aloft on spring
into the barest blue
the wasps on the fence construct
the wasps on the fence construct
paper houses made of tiny hexagonal
compartments for their young to grow
until they can use their glassy wings
taking a lesson in anti-metaphor
because that which is described
is exactly as it appears to the eye
I’m transforming, I’m vibrating,
I’m glowing. I’m flying, look at me now
I was out of place and time and out of my mind.
Which was always the cage.