Garden-variety Opinions

They swarm.

They buzz gratingly.

They cling to the screen of the patio door

and look at me out of one eye, blackly.

They land on sweaty and inconvenient places,

biting regardless

of whether I swat them,

or not.

 

They lurk.

They creep furtively.

They leave shiny trails on the pavement

and ooze from one dark, hidden crevice to another.

They nuzzle the tender leaves of timidly sprouting plants,

devouring regardless

of whether I grieve the loss,

or not.

 

They maraud.

They squawk menacingly.

They crash through the ivy on the chimney

and reappear with squirming nestlings in their beaks.

They drop to the convenient and indifferent ground,

dismembering regardless

of whether I can bear to watch,

or not.