Monday, July 25, 2011

Low Hanging Fruit

When I saw a redwinged blackbird the other day,  I couldn't help but think how that red spot brightly declared that bird a target for a hawk.

       Low Hanging Fruit

Camouflage I can comprehend;
blending in with the background –
changing like a chameleon
or staying still and praying like
a mantis are ways I’ve dealt
with the world.

Mock aggression makes some sense, too;
a good offense is the best defense
for hissing cats, puffing fish, and
helpless men.

I even understand playing dead,
like cornered possums, gopher snakes,
and the clinically depressed.
Sometimes no one bothers a corpse.

But I cannot explain the red winged
blackbird, the lightning bug, or the
slow flying moth always found
so near the flame. They seem to shout,
“Here I am. Kill me if you must.”

How do such willing victims ever
survive? Is it the kindness
of strangers, disdain of the easy
mark, or pure chance that lets us
evade every predator except
 the last?

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