BONUS SONNET: Locusts: Not Just For Baptists Anymore

We're told of old that John the Baptist fed

Himself on locusts and wild honey; I

Prefer orthopterans in chocolate, dead

Or perhaps still alive, though they can fly

Right out one's mouth unless well-coated.

But I'm digressing; here's why I've now got

Acrididae on my brain. It's noted

Up north in Canada that they are not

Unlike us, in they're subject to the same

Disturbances that cause migraines in a

Small suff'ring population, which I claim

With no pride to be part of. This is the

Best reason to revere them ever, sure:

By stud'ying them we might approach a cure!

BONUS SONNET: In Which The Customary Closet Is Eschewed... For The Clothes Dryer?

I have a dog, and Molly is her name.

A tale or two I've told of her before.

I now may add to her e'er-growing fame

For cowardice, the following: Of yore,

When thunder's rumbles have occurred,

E'en ere their sensing by mere human ears,

To hide has been her instinct, though absurd;

Our house is large and sturdy. Molly's fears

Will brook no consolation, though. At most

Such times this collie-chicken mix has made

Her shelter in a closet. There, a ghost

In black and white she's cowered and she's stayed

Until bribed with a nom. But now the dryer

Seems safer? Or does she seek lint attire?