Big, Big World

Have you ever seen
the fly’s face up close? 

Fury with massive eyes, 

round, without pupils, 

As though he was wearing 

Night vision goggles? 

Who knew how diabolical 

was the expression of
The common household pest?

Have you ever seen the 
sidewalk, when it looks like

there’s a patch of dirt

inching ever so-slightly over?

Upon closer examination, 

it is a parade of ants,   

tricking the eye, 

like brown flecks 

in an impressionist painting.

Carrying gifts 

three times their size

back home. 

Have you ever seen
the impressive handiwork 

of a spider? 

When its most carefully woven strands 

form the ominous yet 

magnificent structure, 

glinting almost rainbow 

in the sun, 

looking like the soft and springy 

bungee chair I had in my house, 

tempting its tired, flying prey

to take rest. 

Have you ever seen

the worm, after it was cut in two, 

I gasped, aghast, until 

both halves of its body 

wriggled away, 

leaving behind 

their usual shiny trail, 

unphased,
the tail is born
a snail anew.

I used to sift through 

the soil, its soft, gravel-ey, 

unified, unbreakable, 

yet pliable, movable structure

and wonder what types of surprises 

it would present.

I never learned as much as I did 

exploring the outdoors,

as though from a bird’s eye view, 

or in an up-close scope, 

the animals, wind, and trees 

would whisper stories, 

I would bring a notebook 

and write them down:

The stories about me

and the big, big world. 

And even when I grew 

old enough to go to school

I would catch a glance at the woodgrain

desk, its scribbles

and swirly lines

would turn into an eye,

a bug, or maybe even a tree, 

and tell me stories

and I would write them down 

And even now. 

I try to rewind in my mind’s eye

and look out into the world 

through that same

child-like wonder.

I am trying to keep it alive 

like the bird I found 

with a broken leg, 

or the worm 

that spurred two lives 

just as natured seemed to end him,  

I am trying to write it all down.