my life was full of

karma bugs,

from my skull cap,

to my Ugghs

–picked ‘em up while sowing fields–

–aided by a turning wheel–

–seeded for a karmic yield–

and though a few

came out in wash,

the rest of ‘em I could not squash.

I swatted some

up in the air,

alas, a lot came

down from there

–falling to the bed I’d made–

–next to which I sometimes prayed–

–petitioning a sunny day–

and since my chickens

roosted there,

I let them be

as Nature’s

fare.

Foregoing swat,

I tried by fist,

throwing down,

but could not squish

–even one when fingers spread–

–casting 3 back at my head–

–index hanging like a thread–

pointing out my

trebled blame,

my harvest

in this karmic game.

And recognizing

game afoot,

I realized to

fight’s no good

–and “going there”, I came around–

–at which point, all bugs came down–

–no longer bane, but new friends found–

a crop of opps

I reaped that day,

on b’itchy back

was karmic pay.

©Karen Robiscoe

daily prompt: karma