Inchworm Season

Those calculated walks always put

You into some sort of a trance

Side-stepping under the trees

Like an awkward hip-hop routine


You navigate your body

With your carefully sharpened vision

Your feet gradually realize your future

Following a spontaneous, ever-changing map


The inchworms sway in the morning wind

Their lala songs swing by your ears like cotton

Wiggling their tiny bodies, calling out

For your attention, the ultimate attachment


Nine o’clock, they’re at their prime

In the sunlight, they each mark their spot

For an entire night, they’ve prepared for this rendezvous

So the absent-minded, will take them away


And the early birds walk, daily,

Into their squirming embrace

Into their soft joy

Of you being oblivious to their stay


Only in the mirror, do you find

These passionate, needy insects

You find them clinging to your hair,

Whispering to you, their quiet love.



  1. slpmartin · October 4, 2010

    Haven’t seen those little guys in a while, but do recall finding them hanging out in someone’s hair…loved how you used this idea to form the poem…well done.

  2. Carol Ann Hoel · October 3, 2010

    Ah, I see. I just looked up inchworm on Google. Cute little creatures but I wouldn’t want them on my hair. Thank you for telling me about them. I learned something and even got to see a photo of an inchworm.

  3. Kim · October 2, 2010

    They’re these tiny insects that hang down from the trees and get stuck on your hair. I always walk into them and it’s so gross!!!!! Thanks =] I really appreciate your comments and regular readership. =]

  4. Carol Ann Hoel · October 2, 2010

    Hm. I don’t know what an inchworm is and I’m not sure I want to meet one. I do like your verses. You write great poetry, Kim.

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