Heading on past the cliffs
Where hopping ravens make their nests,
I pass the bewildered willets
And the mated duck pair with
Their stubbornly remaining child.
I spot as a likely site
A slight indent in the cliff,
Out of the wind and out of eyeshot.
I discover a seep there,
Festooned with little flowers,
And I like the play on words.
Squatting, I notice a tiny skull,
And then my eyes allow that
This is the site of a long past
When I saved that ladybug
From encroaching wavelets,
I placed him on a rock, clearly
Out of danger.
Then my eyes were allowed to see
100 dead ladybugs
All around me.