166. June 15th
Through the canopy of trees above,
Shafts of sunlight break through.
They, like steel knives cut,
Through the covering to the floor.
The insects hide from the powerful light,
As if it is some sort of god.
It keeps them alive but they are frightened,
And make their homes in the dark.
The shadows conceal them,
But are surly more treacherous.
For in the dark one cannot see,
But also cannot be seen.