something in the air
Flies weave a buzzing basket
of still warm light.
Hairline rainbow cracks
in space above paths, like mistakes
leave unseen tethers of regret,
sticky, soft and the crawling amber tickle
of small spiders, desperate
to re string wrong sprung traps.
Speckled wood butterflies
pair up and tie tight, air knots high,
higher up into glittering birch leaves’ green.
Tangled angles, daddy long legs dangle
from grass with dirty glasses’ wings
wondering if flight was worth the swap
from simple pupa safely earthed.
A hoverfly hangs, button steady
as if ready to be pressed;
what would happen next?
Maybe there'd be a quantum shift
where we'd cause no mass extinctions, climate change -
but humans cannot move that fast
to save our lives