August, the annual spray recital; decks have been cleared
Uninvited characters wait in the wings, unseen unheard.
The human audience crop the stage of household props,
Corralling them in a pile; complete with the requisite aisle.
The stage director proscribes a seven-hour intermission
Wherein, uninvited “guests” are handed script revisions,
To ply their trade in nature’s outdoor theater positions.
After the fuming hiatus of the director’s lavish sprayer,
Human actors reconvening, enter left at the stage door,
To a scene of one last uninvited “guest” from the wings;
Sprinting in her bustling fetching, exo-skeletal coatings,
Shod in multiple pairs of patent leather swag and shoes,
Escaping, without even so much as a polite “thank you,”
From the final act of recital day’s herculean rendezvous.