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Poetry: Puddles

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Poor little worm.

You're trapped in a puddle.

I watch as you squirm

Writhe, pitch and huddle.

It's your fault, you know.

You should have stayed in.

When the wind starts to blow

You must avoid surface din.

But up you came

Through the earth and the stone.

The weather can tame

You, it seems, and you alone.

You're learning your lesson

As I crouch at the edge.

No need to be guessin';

I'll stick to my pledge.

In plunge my fingers.

The water is cold,

With chill that long lingers

Once this story is told.

You battle the rescue

From your watery grave;

Your rolls twist and skew,

You refuse to behave.

But into the air

I send you away:

With heave and aim fair

You'll see a new day.

Back into the grass, worm.

Return to your lair to cuddle.

I just saved your ass, worm.

From now on, beware the puddle.

142610_m Learn more about this author, Matt Bird.
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