WHEN APHIDS GROW HALOS

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Contributor: Joanna M. Weston

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barely visible to the naked eye
these pale green creatures
thrive on the sap of trees
and touch my lips so lightly
giving birth continuously

wondrous light-framed beings
in their strange winged forms
hover on the edge of breath
like wilted leaves or flying seeds
that tickle prickle startle

each one lies on warmth of skin
small soft-bodied pear-shaped
secreting a substance called honeydew
that tastes like summer evenings
though a sooty mold may flourish

and form a roof over their backs
which will curtail flight
and stifle whole populations
halos burned and wings dried
to airy nothingness against blue


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JOANNA M. WESTON. Has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published for twenty-five years. Her poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, was published by Frontenac House of Calgary.

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