Aphids are born pregnant.
I don’t want to believe it,
but it makes sense, considering
what’s happening in my kale.
And Google confirms it.
They are born pregnant.
And their embryos are also
pregnant. Three generations
of garden cripplers in each tiny
soft-bodied bug.
No matter how much I hate
and curse them, I have to admire
such insistence, such dedication
to survival.
It is like gratitude,
I think. Sometimes, it seems
as if there’s not much to be grateful for,
but if I can think of one blessing,
then often, buried in its belly
is another blessing,
and that gives birth to another.
Soon there’s a teeming colony
of gratitudes. And although
the news might try to squish them
or wash them away,
they persist.
Yes, all those tiny feasting gratitudes,
how easily they find a way
to thrive. How impressive
their tenacity, their drive.
3 generations at a time! That’s crazy!
I agree!!! Totally crazy!!! Tallk about survival! Talk about not needing any males!
Ok, this was my fact-learning for the day. Or for the next three generations of days … 😉
right??? I was sooo surprised by this fact, but it makes so much sense in the garden, observing!
In the garden, yes, perhaps. Though still a bit creepy and … more proof for alien life on earth .. 😉
ewwww, right!
What an ingenious idea you’ve developed in this poem! I love it, and I admire you!
I agree!
Thank you, Sir Charles! I won’t lie, it took a while to go from being creeped out to thinking it was amazing and soooo cool.
Haha! Time always does the best things for us.
it did turn me this time …
sweet you … thank you. I will be honest that my first thought was not gratitude. My first thought was disbelief. My second thought was YUCK! My third thought was, huh, I kinda think I know where else this plays out in a similar way … third thought, best thought??