The Sac

In the roses, hidden
A crinkly little clump
Squishy, brown and wrinkled
A smallish papery bump

Look a little closer
And see the little swirls
The grooves and swishy-swashies
The round and running whorls

It’s not a wilted flower
A leaf deformed and slack
The blob is quite important
A praying mantis sac

It holds eggs in the hundreds
It keeps the mantids warm
Until the frost is over
Then hundreds start to swarm

So let the brown globs stay there
Don’t pick at them or spray
And you’ll have lots of helpers
To crunch on pests and prey

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