Watch out, watch out!
If you spot it, suppress your shout,
Lest it hear you
And fancy your form or hue,
For who knows its ways?
As it drifts through the days
Enveloped in its designer home self-made,
With materials gathered from its latest raid.
And in its tangled nest
It has laid to uneasy rest,
Many unsuspecting beings
And stolen or discarded things…
A shimmering green beetle
Slain or rendered feeble,
And driven to a slumber beyond care,
Drenched in a dream or a nightmare.
From some cosy nest an egg sneakily stolen
And into its braided house firmly woven.
A feather stealthily plucked,
And in its dwelling neatly tucked.
Satisfied with the hoarding,
That serve as additions to its boarding,
It decides to shift camp,
And gripping the rim of a lamp
With curved hook-like fingers
It steadily manoeuvres,
Buffeted by the whistling breeze…
In the direction of the trees.
Is it a witch or a wizard?
So wily and wayward…
And the inanimate things
collected from plants and other beings,
Added to its dwelling,
That is already overflowing.
What is its intention?
Concocting a magical potion?
Adding to its vain collection?
An offer to its coven?
Midnight treats to be savoured in its haven?
Gathering items for its curio shop in the woods
To cater to all witchy moods?
Those fine straws and twigs…
Are they for making broomsticks or haute-couture wigs?
For decorating a mobile house beyond compare
Or peddling as quirky ware?
Whatever may be its purpose,
Beware of the bagworm’s curse
For it might be the wild baba yaga of the other world
A boogy-being of the terrifying insect underworld.
Sealed was the jewel bug’s fate,
Leaving it in a dismal state
When these warnings it did flout
And disregarding the danger
Ventured when the creature was out to plunder,
Only to be caught in its wily snare
Rendered senseless and bare
And promptly carried to the dreaded bagworm’s lair
A.R Sara 