Take flight, red beetle
Let your jacket 'click' open,
Your tiny engines whirr,
The air stirs
Just a little.
And feel your cogs turn,
Let them tickle your wings
And your mighty limbs purr
The air stirs
Just a little.
But fly, great beetle
In your automatic storm
In your wake the air burns
So it stirs...
Just a little.
Author notes
This poem is a comparison between a machine and the mechanisms of a bioligical creature. It's also about how loud, huge and overwhelming something must be to an insect when we're so big that we may not notice anything.
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