Beetle Buds

Slumbering woods bloom under beetle plowed pulp. Up above, the canopy is bare, and sheds only white zero’s. Beetles hum beneath the rot, detonate inaudible chitinous chimes, troglodyte tones under a dormant mulch. Everywhere, ambiguity buds open and close in a subterranean flurry. When the ice breaks its quash and quell, they surface round and gleaming to chase new laid morsels down; their feeding turning earth for the seeding sun.