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,
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