Friday, January 31, 2014
our connection to these mealworms is anything but
their stage is our stage: child.
we take them from the dark, fearless, though daily we
their aim is our aim: grow.
we watch them wriggle out of old skins, wild with
their change is our change: tough.
then we find them waxen white and frozen on their bran,
their wait is our wait: long.
[dedicated to my kindergarten team]
The Poetry Friday round-up is at The Miss Rumphius Effect with the lovely Tricia, down in my hometown of Richmond, VA. See you there all weekend!