The sun is shining
And grass is grasshopper green
Stridulating song is on the breeze
It’s time to leap and flirt
To impress the girls
And sing our hearts out (may the best man win)
But, Holy Christ, boys
Here comes the lumbering, swishing beast
Loud, ungainly, clumsy in our peaceful meadow,
Crashing through this glorious summer day.

Definitely diurnal (preferably when sunny),
And armed with numerous appendages.
Two body parts – head and plump, ovoid abdomen,
Four clumsy legs but only two aid movement
While the other two are quite adept
At holding objects hard, black and shiny
Or swishing stick with something black and lacy
To chase, pounce, pause, manipulate.
Her two poor attempts at eyes don’t attune to much -
They can’t distinguish real colour,
And don’t detect the subtle antennal flicker.
She’s no antennae to smell or feel,
Or experience our gentle tibia touch.
Of course, that’s often our escape –
We align ourselves with stems
Conceal ourselves in grasses brown and green
Or drop down deep beneath her tread.

The beast moves hither and thither
Thundering around, upsetting webs,
Treading grass and moving leaves.
Waving black and lacy, she’ll pounce again,
Pause and, unsuccessful, moves on.
This lugubrious beast can’t hear –
We sing and really make a racket
But she never turns an ear in our direction.
If I were as big as the bumbling beast I’ll tell you what I’d do.
I’d build a big, transparent thing,
I’d catch the dismal brute and put her in it
And observe her for a while (see how she likes it),
I’d prod and poke her, check out all her bits
And then I’d kill her (nicely but haven’t thought of how)
And pin her up for all to see
And then … she wouldn’t trouble me.