Poison Ivy, by Bonnie Boucek

Innocuous little plant you appear:

Leaves of three;

Bush or vine or ground covering;

Fruit bearing;

And

GREEN then RED as you age.

Insidious little plant you are:

Leaves of waxy coats;

Marking territory as only yours;

Poison human fruit;

And

Oil oozed out to punish any who dares to touch.

Invigorating little plant you remain;

Leaves regenerate spring after spring;

Spreading out to claim new territory;

Reproductive seedlings give life;

And

Thoughts of you will always remain intwined.

Mosquito, by Steven Caumo

You are born beneath the water

A soft, wriggling, helpless thing

Drifting along a cool stream

Do you know you will fly?

A transparent key will bloom

From your hardening shell

As you breach the surface of the water

Do you know you will be hated?

Now the water you drink is red and warm

Filling you with joy, filling you with hope

Drunk on life, you fly from the safety of the green

Toward the buzzing blue light calling your name

As your brief existence flashes before your compound eyes

Did you ever know the word ‘disease’?

American Bullfrog, by Geeta Roopnarine

Majestically you sit,

your eyes mirroring worlds

past and present

your forelegs sturdy on the ground

as if you were holding the earth in place,

or deciphering maps,

vibrations that travel through the earth’s crust.

You sit in the sun, your cool skin

reflecting the flight of birds

you sit in your little space, self contained,

carrying the wisdom of the ages lightly.

If only we could look past

images of you that frightened people draw,

if only we could see ourselves

mirrored in your eyes.