PUPA
a bagworm has hitched his
wooded wagon to my window,
sown his screen right into
the fabric of my screen,
and curses when he discovers
I'm in here watching him
 
hiding in his twiggy cocoon, I
in mine, each waiting for the other
to mature and fly away
 
tomorrow morning
I'll get my paper
while he waters his tulips
a little too close to
my hyacinths