as soon as rain touches the ground and we see puddles,
there they come, wiggly icky worms.
mostly moving in straight direction, to where- i wonder?
leisurely strolls on the ground, only when the sun isnt out,
perhaps a bit surprised about the air above the dirt-
on the pavements, sidewalks,
nothing rushes them or worries them.
just little water drops (enormous for them!),
gliding down their round body.
glistening with the bits of life-giving water,
my little wee bro used to pick them up,
then hold it in both hands, cupped, a child's treasure,
and he would simply say:
oh it's so pretty. look.
with no eyes, no danger foreseen-
no pedestrians, no bicycles, not even cars.
without being chased by the visual madness of the rainy day,
as everyone holds up another limb with stretched effort against the rain,
often swaying hopelessly against the gutsy wind,
skin embraced by the gentled, muted light of the rainy day.
i pick my foot up, one at a time,
carefully placing it on the ground,
avoiding these naive worms.
and unlike me, who is a bit rushed, always, on a rainy day,
along with their slow friends-
the snails and slugs,
along with forgotten thoughts of
not-so-slow, red vested robins and brown spotted chickadees,
the worms are out,
on a rainy day.
squiggles on the plain pavement.
reflections: dennis bautiasta