beckons earth worms from the soil
to the paved surfaces
humans have seemingly grown to prefer
in place of living earth;
but having tiny brains,
no capacity to think ahead,
worms lie on this un-giving veneer,
become easy pickings for robins, tires and feet.
Many simply shrivel in the sun,
a metaphorical message, perhaps
to creatures with complicated brains
who, nonetheless, place themselves in situations
they can't think of a way to wiggle out of.
I am retired after a life of various kinds of physical labor. I currently volunteer as a writing tutor and as a naturalist. My seventh book of poems is At Gloaming from North Star Press. My website is www.larryschugpoet.com.