Ladybugs in November
They shelter indoors, break in through
uncaulked cracks in windows, searching
of a warm place for their last days.
At first, these tiny prowlers crawl along crown
molding or buzz against the rim
of the pendant light in the dining room.
Sometimes I glimpse them in mid-flight,
spotted domes spread, thin brown wings
soaring on the last heated air of the season.
Soon they’ll appear at eye level, teetering
along bathroom walls and mirrors in haphazard
circles like the town drunk you can’t send home.
When the nights dip toward freezing, I pretend
not to see them clinging to the back splash
or creeping below on vanity doors, bright
against the stark white of cabinets.
Why must I gather upturned bodies,
return their abandoned shells to dust?
~ Pamela Taylor © 2013