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.

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4 comments

  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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