Everyday Poem #3

Up at the 4 am hour, lost in negative thought

I stroll the neighborhood to find

the proverbial early bird getting

the proverbial worm

from beneath a pin oak.

Watching the robin mercilessly yank and tug

the fighting but otherwise shocked and defenseless worm

from where he presumably slept (better than me)

moments ago

in his warm worm bed in

the worm house he shares with his

worm wife and worm kids and worm pets,

with a worm job to get to in a few hours after a

worm coffee and worm commute,

I realize the ubiquitous and hungry early bird has never

never truly considered the worm’s feelings

on the situation.

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