Even insects have mythologies.
Six-legged elders tell tales of sandstorms, droughts and deep freezes. They reminisce about burning prairies, lush elms and lowlands flooded with brackish water.
Insects, too, pass down tribal lore — legends of grasshopper heros, mantis mages, bustle-beetles and boxelder buccaneers.
With great patience, bugs teach their pupae to burrow underground, breed in mid-air, hang from trees, disguise themselves as crumbling leaves or gnarled bark.
Even insects dream of living a heroic life.
It’s every locust’s fantasy to play a starring role in the next seven-year plague.
—
Catherine Wald is a poet, teacher and tour guide based in a Manhattan apartment the size of her laptop. Poems have appeared in American Journal of Nursing, Gravel, Minerva Rising, J Journal, The New York Times, and Snapdragon Journal, among others. She has published a chapbook, Distant, burned-out stars (Finishing Line) and a nonfiction book, The Resilient Writer (Persea Books).
