When I was young I saw the impossible:
A bumble bee that seemed to float just
in front of a cluster of mustard yellow
flowers; wings unmoving, oddly positioned
the wrong direction for feeding, as if
fleeing and then stuck. But when I was young
I did not see the impossible, I moved closer
to see a little mellow, also yellow ambush bug
holding their floating meal with a strong
proboscis and the bee never knew what hit her.
Now, I always watch the goldenrod. I watch
crab spiders and ambush bugs wait
for the bees and mosquitoes to pollinate
the plants and hope to catch their daily breads.
I always watch for green lynx spiders and
soldier beetles and the swelling of a
welcoming new gall or a cluster of aphids. I
watch for the miracles to explain themselves
with the complexities of allometry and survival
and it never fails to make me smile.
I was never a plant girl. It was always the insects
and arachnids that fascinated and moved me. I owe them
for seeing me through some of the worst times in my life.
They’ve been protection from bullies because
someone needs to get the wasp out of the classroom,
right? They’ve been my right to continuing an
education in the form of a lifetime obsession with
the beauty and accidental cruelty of mosquitoes.
They were my friendship with my favorite cousin
and a source of comfort when he left us much too young.
When I was young, I saw the impossible
in the shape of a strong little bug hiding
in these chaotic yellow clusters and feeding
on a bee that tried to feed on the flowers. This
little bug, holding a meal twice its size with
only its mouth, squeaked softly when it noticed
me and became my favorite insect for several years.
I’m much older than I was and I still smile every time
I see goldenrod, but it took me two decades to fully understand
that, for all my love of arthropods, I should also thank the plant.
Cassie Urquhart (she/her) is a happy grumpy lesbian who lives in a tiny apartment with her dog, her wife, and one too many cats. She’s an entomologist and poet who also edits and works with rescue animals, part-time. Although she’s been writing for most of her life, she only began submitting poems after completing a science communication workshop through the Hubbard Brook Foundation. After having three poems successfully accepted for publication through that program, she has continued to write and submit work regularly. Her poems are largely themed around nature, loss, and occasional life moments. You can find her poems online and in print at Exist Otherwise, Silkworm, and other publications.