I discovered you yesterday afternoon,
motionless, along the roadside.
Using a stick, I hoped you would
cling to it, so you could be transported
to safer ground.
It felt as if you did,
and so I gingerly lifted you
onto the plastic bag holding the new phone book.
Knowing where there were milkweed out back,
I stepped through the tall grass
and blackberry thorns to deliver you.
I slipped your still inert body onto a leaf
and walked over to the water.
A slight breeze rippled the surface
as a heavy life form leapt in,
I turned to look at you again before walking
back to the house.
Alas, you’d been blown from the leaf
and were laying upside down on the grass.
At first it looked like your torso was gone.
I flipped you over to dispel the vision.
One of your antennae were missing.
You were light as a feather.
Why didn’t I feel your diaphanosity before?
Sympathy washed over me.
What far land had you traveled from
only to be snuffed by a motored beast
as you neared your prize?