• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 04
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Chris Chrysalis

I dangled like ripe fruit
no one would be tempted to pluck
from a low-lying limb of a bush
with no particular charm.

I dangled the appropriate amount of time
weeks, years, eons trying to get it right.

Which I mostly did.

The color scheme and basic controls.
Ratio of lift to thrust was a challenge
but such matters had been worked out
well before my time came.

And now extruded from the dried husk
of my pod I crawl more than burst
upon the scene to be seen
in all my orange and powdery wonder.

Which mostly makes me an easy mark
for a black-beaked oriole or a pissed-off wasp.