finds her fruit by keeping her head trained down
but she sees more bugs by looking all around
the bug collector turns over every leaf
and she picks up some for her sister to keep
it's always that midwestern sugar maple
that lights the flame and begins the fable
autumn has fallen and with it the wasps and bees
and those high hopes of the bug collector amidst the tumbling leaves
the bitter winds force her head back down
and whisk away the life she might have found
