Today, looking skyward,
as these mechanical locusts fill the air.
Their thunderous emotions,
to strive to make their destinations.
Here between earth and air.
Rest, gathered, six legs in their millions,
waiting to move out on a raid with the new day.
Plague be their name,
soon to take flight.
To darken the sky,
in their dull browns,
each in tuned formation,
call on the rapid beat to their wings.
Out to devour,
lay waste to all they pass through.
As do the mechanical locusts when called upon,
they leave just a wasteland.