March Encounter

A ladybug sits in the sun
on the floor
of my indoor porch.

She squats
between two white tiles
and is lucky I didn’t
step on her!

She is so small, like a drop
from a candle or torch
made of bright orange wax.

I touch to see if she’s alive.
She draws feet in.
It’s such a childlike maneuver:

Please, don’t disturb!

She’s just enjoying the sun,
so, I leave her there.
When I come back to check,
she is gone.

I’m sitting again, as before,
but, now, feel alone.