Song of the Caterpillar

I am a humble caterpillar,
Ungainly, yes, and slow.
I crawl along the twigs and leaflets,
The only world I know.

But now my instinct bids me dangle
By leaflets now turned red,
And spin myself a silken coffin.
Does this mean that Iím dead?

I hang there through the frigid winter,
Unmoving, unaware
Of snow and bitter winds a-blowing,
ĎTil spring is in the air.

And then, a miracle will happen,
Right there before your eyes.
My coffin shreds and I am risen,
A gorgeous butterfly!

And as I spread my wings and flutter,
From fetters finally free,
I see the whole world spread below me,
And Iím a whole new me!

Beth Robinson, 2018

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