Fluttering happily,
the bug flew
High up from the
ground yet not in the sky
Quickly, quickly, in
a sudden panic
It flew from its
vicious would-be captor
Two pale hands
scraped at the air
And the bug expertly
weaved around and in between them,
In an odd dance of
fate and life or death
Then suddenly, with
a silent swoop
The bug dove down
and then back up
And flew away
Quickly, quickly, in
a flurry
