On an Autumn day
I took a leaf,
Yellowing in its
Tenuous attachment
To the tree.
There were others,
But of no interest to me,
Since the one I held
Held itself a worm
Rushing to be free.
And cruelly,
With each attempt to flee,
I brought it back
To the center of the dead leaf.
Until at last, in seeming glee,
The worm struggled
To one corner
And in a jump
Was rid of me.
Undaunted, I stopped
To see
Where it dragged slowly
Along leaf after leaf;
‘Til it reached the trunk
of the tree
and turned.
Then again it was worm
And me.
Under my heel I crushed the vicio
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