Bait

The Imitation flies far and fast
toward the pod of lilies,
slapping the edge and
casting droplets about.

It drifts slowly downward,
making no haste;
a wet leaf in the wind.

Somewhere nearby, the puppeteer is at work,
playing the audience for fools.
A pull here,
a pause there;
all onlookers ensnared.
Until someone takes a bite.