The Caterpillar

One day I was sitting on the back steps of my parent’s home in the rural Delaware Water Gap area of New Jersey. I was looking at a leaf on a nearby plant and a crawling caterpillar caught my attention.

I wondered if it would become a butterfly or a moth…

If a moth, would it be smart enough to fly to the stars and moon…
Or would it accidentally find a flame and snuff itself…

I wondered what type of butterfly it would be…
would it last long enough to make little caterpillars…

What sort of bird would like to eat this bug…

And then I thought how I was a caterpillar…
Still learning to crawl in a huge world…
Still waiting for my wings…
Wondering what squishy death would take me…
Or would I die of old age like butterflies must do somewhere…
In Tahiti – with exotic vibrant colors.
Or in the gray of a bustling city.

 One end of the caterpillar started to move. It was the head. But I was wrong.

It pooped and went in the direction I didn’t expect it to go.

 

1987

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