The child takes us Mason-jarring
out where the backyard meets the woods

Soon each jar contains a nondescript black beetle
of uncertain entomology duly given
a name such as ours

At supper call we two adults assure
that Mike and Ike and Lucy are released
back into their usual less confining environment
and forgotten

Freedom is a simple gift to give another

yet if I were to be kept anywhere
I would prefer a grownup girl’s memory of me
to a Mason jar

as like Ike Black-Beetle
I crawl the world’s backyard
under or over blades of grass taller than me
hiding from sun and sparrow

– Russell Rowland