Before plugging
my laptop
into the socket
to work on my poem,
I found a tiny
crimson and black
spotted hump
on the windowsill.
Whispered, “ooh, a ladybug”.
As if my alto
could shatter her antenna.
Got busy
googling symbolism.
Plotting on the luck
that’s on the way.
Foot-rubbing love,
here to stay.
Pontificating on what
other good fortune lives
beneath God’s feathers and wings.
Forgot to open
the window
so she could get back
to climbing her rose bushes,
the delight of aphids.
I found cloak,
faded to the
color of brick.
Seven black spots
of sorrow.
Carla M. Cherry is a veteran English teacher who is studying for her M.F.A. in Creative Writing at the City College of New York. She has written five books of poetry; her latest is Stardust and Skin (iiPublishing 2020). She is a vegan who loves to go Chicago-style stepping.