(research)

Breath escapes,
lungs struggle to pull it back,
and I work to calm my mind.
(Working against a deadline)
Sweat drips, slow,
flesh quivers under stress
and I press on one more time.
(Remember my own aim? This mission is all mine)
Duty calls me
Love supports
my mission simple, pure
These secrets for the taking,
if only we look with an unbiased eye
the patterns of an insect's wing,
its motions, place, and time.
These hint at what the future holds,
what places may become,
how resilient is this planet,
the place that we call home.