Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Thursday, September 21, 2006

caterpillar and cynic I...

Weary little caterpillar. You are so very small.
I see you crawling there withall
Your feet in tidy rows and I am standing over you.
You neat pre-flutter self. You fool.
Your only work in life to feed, your only hope
Slow munch and crawl. Do you see the tree
With leaves that beg you come and feed?
Do you see me standing here in awe your tiny might?
Does the blood flow through your veins in such a way as mine?
Have any thought at all? Do you mind life’s great strife?
Mighty, tiny cat-er pill-ler. Feed and feel no scorn.
Scurry along the side-walk ground. Know not higher form.
For in your next life flutter-by, the one after job of sleep;
When your duty mate and die, know not us humans meek.
We shall chase and our children cry;
When you not caught just flutter by.
Know not what we think of you, our respect, our awe of flight
Know our touch though curling you we take from path of feet
Know our gently coaxing thus from hand to tree-leaf treat
Know not why we protect you, our careful hand you bite.

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