for Maria Teresa Horta
The dung beetle aids the earth with its slow collection of a fecal diet. The ladybird beetle unwittingly pollenates, in fertile droppings, as it chases whiteflies. Small offerings. Unmeditated. Like a cochineal gifting red dye or silk worms secreting thread. The banal. By remnant. In bits. Like some Maria at her small Portuguese window pushing pen onto paper, waiting for her marmalade to set.
What do you think?