A Considerable Speck
(Microscopic)

A speck that would have been beneath my sight
On any but a paper sheet so white
Set off across what I had written there.
And I had idly poised my pen in air
To stop it with a period of ink
When something strange about it made me think,
This was no dust speck by my breathing blown,
But unmistakably a living mite
With inclinations it could call its own.
It paused as with suspicion of my pen,
And then came racing wildly on again
To where my manuscript was not yet dry;
Then paused again and either drank or smelt--
With loathing, for again it turned to fly.
Plainly with an intelligence I dealt.
It seemed too tiny to have room for feet,
Yet must have had a set of them complete
To express how much it didn't want to die.
It ran with terror and with cunning crept.
It faltered: I could see it hesitate;
Then in the middle of the open sheet
Cower down in desperation to accept
Whatever I accorded it of fate.
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept.
But this poor microscopic item now!
Since it was nothing I knew evil of
I let it lie there till I hope it slept.

I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.

Robert Frost

Thank you, Rumor. It's been quite a while since I took the road less travelled.

Most likely a scabie mite--or the same thing that causes mange in dogs. Perhaps a tiny baby bedbug or seed tick. It will thank you late in the night as you sleep and it burrows deep into and beneath your skin, snuggles there and bears it's young with it's new found friend that let it live.

"no good deed goes unpunished"

quote Originally posted by maryjane: Most likely a scabie mite--or the same thing that causes mange in dogs. Perhaps a tiny baby bedbug or seed tick. It will thank you late in the night as you sleep and it burrows deep into and beneath your skin, snuggles there and bears it's young with it's new found friend that let it live. "no good deed goes unpunished"

Hmmm, maybe you're right... perhaps it was a flea...

MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.

O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

No maybe, when it crawls and slithers down the back of your pants into the warm dark moist butt crack and engages it's ovipositor to drop about 1/2 billion eggs to hatch and dig and feast upon dead flesh and other unmentionable but everpresent morsels, clinging with tiny claws, and mandibles till your fingers bleed from all the scratching and your hips ache from the never ending squirming as you try to be as nonchalant as possible to keep your co-workers from noticing your extreme discomfort as you sit in front of your keyboard.

My work here is done.

[This message has been edited by maryjane (edited 07-16-2011).]

quote Originally posted by maryjane: No maybe, when it crawls and slithers down the back of your pants into the warm dark moist butt crack and engages it's ovipositor to drop about 1/2 billion eggs to hatch and dig and feast upon dead flesh and other unmentionable but everpresent morsels, clinging with tiny claws, and mandibles till your fingers bleed from all the scracthing and your hips ache from the never ending squirming as you try to be as nonchalant as possible to keep your co-workers from noticing your extreme discomfort as you sit in front of your keyboard. My work here is done.

<sigh>

I thought marines could tough anything out..... ....ya know. like using a blow-torch and salt to remove leeches from yer balls......frack...yeh, I cant be nonchalant about that....

[This message has been edited by MidEngineManiac (edited 07-16-2011).]

I didn't say "me".