Worm

He wiggles and waggles across the walk,
Above him hears the walker’s talk,
Seeking the cool of the grass so green,
Reflecting the morning’s moisture sheen.

Watching around for the shadow shade,
A diving bird on his daily raid,
A meal to make of this earthy worm,
He creeps and crawls in a slow, slow squirm,

A walker’s shoe is almost as scary,
Steps from nowhere and misses, barely,
The sun reaches down to quench its thirst,
The worm needs moisture, a rain cloud burst.

It’s a long journey ‘cross this dangerous path,
To a yard with dirt and a sprinkler bath.