Uncaught

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