It is elegantly furled
as if it were a broad leaf curled
into a bright green body with
a tail. Its head is cocked and its
antennae are splayed, perhaps,
not so much in consternation
as in consideration of what
to do next. Its four lime green
legs attach themselves to storm
window glass, as if it is in
perpetual mid-leap, inside-
looking-out of the half-lifted
storm window, that accommodates
the air conditioner. When I first
saw it, I thought it was on
the outside of the glass, which it
may have been, but now it is
on the inside of the glass, and
if a grasshopper could be said
to be keening, then that is what
it is doing. I look out at it
from where it rests on the clear
pane, the deep green leaves
of a maple in full view, and
beyond that the sunnier
green of the open field before
the windbreak’s hedgerow green.