Mr. Worm
Something about you, Mr. Worm
You are proficient and responsible
Even as your grim business takes you
Into a darkness you should maybe stay deep with.
Early mornings are dodgy, no?
A little dew on the ground,
You take a peek, never knowing if eager fingers are waiting
Longing to pull your long body up for hook bait, eh?
Make it through one of those sunrise risks,
There’s always those pesky rain showers
Forcing you to take shelter beneath a leaf or two,
Do your fastidious check of appointments for the day
And make the decision…
Better eats in the rose garden soil
Or
Maybe try the newly tilled vegetable garden?
Such a life, Mr. Worm,
Just biding your time,
Waiting for the sunset,
The moonrise,
The stars,
The onset of tonight’s dew drops.
Just you and the heavens. What a view, eh?
Good luck tomorrow
If you make it through those other birds,
You know, the slam, bam, thank you m’am type,
Oh…
And understand there’s a Boy Scout troop
Gatherin’ your kind for their fishin’ trip.
Stay deep.
Who am I?
I’m the bird that just likes to watch.
You know the type…
Watchin’ over your sorry ass
If you don’t take to my wise advice.
- Keeping up with the times is becoming a daunting task. Had to muse on some goofy flash fiction. (Image by Alan Baker)
I believe that robins actually listen (why they cock their heads?) to hear worms crawling near the surface where they can grab them. When I was observing robins in my youth I thought they were getting bigger every year on the bounty of worms and actually thought they might reach the size of chickens, to be eaten. Woodcock, harder to shoot than quail, taste terrible because their primary food is worms.
From a wise old fisherman we learned that fat angel worms love used coffee grounds worked into the soil. In one shovelful of dirt like that, we could gather enough for a whole fishing trip.
Finally, the early worm digs deep, far from the reach of the robin's beak.
Ron