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.
an excellent point and poem
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