Hoverfly
So still, she holds herself. No sound,
hanging there as if suspended;
reverses back and darts around,
back then to the flower intended.
Tiny fizzing wings scarcely seen,
folded now, she alights to taste
the nectar there, such sweet cuisine,
then off above the bloom she's graced.
Thank you my pollinator friend
for laying larvae to devour
those aphids. May they meet their end
and so allow the plants to flower.
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