This is a worm poem that came to me while I was out in my garden yesterday. We are in the depths of winter, but it was a nice day–in the fifties. I was putting together a small raised bed. I picked up some black plastic and there were some worms in plain view squirming around. The worms were squirming because of their surprise exposure to the light of day, and it just got me thinking about worms:
Ode to the Worms
Mighty workers of the soil
Squirming, eating, copulating, cleaning
Into nourishment for new life.
How would our world look without them?