Driving home in the September dark,
I see a shadow of leafy something
affixed to the windshield, but,

since it’s not impairing my vision,
I zip up the onramp for the brief
hop on the freeway to my exit,

a swift 65 for a mile, then off,
then home in a trice. Pulling into
the driveway, the porch light

catches the leafy something’s
legs moving. Legs? Pushing my own
out of my four-wheeled cocoon,

I stand and bend and peer at
the darkened glass to find a mantis
of significant size that has not only

hitched a ride but hung on at speed,
only to be relocated a few miles
from, quite possibly, its native habitat.

Horrified, I gently scoop it up,
whispering apologies, deposit it
carefully atop the crawling viney

groundcover next to the driveway.
I do not see it leave, feel only
a slight tickle on my palm as it

leapfrogs to, I pray, safety,
relieved to have preserved this
one small life, knowing that it

cannot make up for all the others
I have not, will not,
ever be able to save.