The Fly Trap's Feast

The flytrap waits with jaws agape,
Its lobes of green a tender lure,
A wasp alights, a bold escape,
Drawn close by scent, so sweet, so sure,
Its wings hum soft, a buzzing drape,
The trap lies still, its calm a mask,
A trigger brushed, fate seals the task.

A hair is grazed, the count begins,
One touch, then two, the trap’s alive,
The wasp, too late, feels peril’s pins,
Its legs now thrash, its will to strive,
The lobes snap shut, a clasp that wins,
No flight remains, no sky to chase,
Enclosed in green, a grim embrace.

The jaws lock tight, a prison formed,
The wasp beats hard against its cell,
A seal of doom, by nature warmed,
Its buzz grows faint, a weakened knell,
The flytrap’s grip, so cool, so normed,
Begins its work, no haste, no fuss,
A slow demise in verdant truss.

Enzymes seep from walls so sly,
The wasp, entrapped, begins to fade,
Its shell dissolves, its wings comply,
A liquid feast the trap has made,
No sting can thwart, no plea defy,
The plant consumes with patient greed,
A meal unfolds from nature’s seed.

The hours crawl, digestion reigns,
The wasp’s bright stripes now blur to mush,
Its form succumbs to fluid chains,
A silent end in green’s soft hush,
The flytrap thrives on what remains,
Each morsel claimed, each drop imbibed,
A predator in bloom described.

Days pass slow, the trap holds firm,
The wasp reduced to broth and rind,
Its essence fuels the plant’s new term,
A cycle old as earth designed,
The lobes grow still, their feast affirm,
A husk alone, the rest absorbed,
A victory nature’s law has scored.

The jaws reopen, wide and free,
A husk falls out, a shell so light,
The flytrap basks in sun’s decree,
Its hunger quenched, its green so bright,
No trace remains of wasp’s last plea,
The trap resets, a patient snare,
Awaits the next to wander there.