Swarms of beetles emerge
from the receding snow banks
on the first truly warm day.
Sunbathing on the south wall,
a mass of black bugs lined with red,
their excrement stains the window trim.
Some find their way inside the house
where they crawl into my teacup
or walk across my face as I try to sleep.
But I don’t complain,
More reliable than the robin.
they are the true harbingers
The air is stagnant filled with the sweet smell of blackberries fermenting under the hot August sun A large...