The Climb

Yesterday the children begged
to bring a ladybug into the house.
They claimed one wing was broken,
the inner wing we cannot see
under the lipstick-red robe.

It was charming, how
in a terra cotta pot
they arranged an apartment,
all moss and magnolia petals,
an upturned leaf made a trough of water.
So I gave in, saying until it got dark
they could put the pot
on the sill of the bay window.

Luisa found a thin and twisted stick
made a bridge to the lap
of the ceramic Buddha, a gift
a friend picked up in Thailand.

I sat with them to watch a while
how the bug began to climb
and turn back,
climb and turn back.
Beneath my breath I said,
it’s okay, little beetle,
without wings
it’s not an easy journey.

Sarah Sloat

first published
in Lily Lit Review in February 2005