Worm
Green grass in brown soil
moist in air, overburdening
black clouds on brown leaves
death in fall or spring
rich dirt excreting a fat worm
dressed in his nakedness
like a general declaring war or
a middle-aged man running to a feast
naked worm on his destination
to his daily walk along brown
leaves and saddened atmosphere
pink orphan worm with no arms, no eyes
just his instinct to stay alive
like tree roots leading to food
worm at the edge of nuisance
brainless, yet wise enough
to crawl on his skin
defining rules of destiny and
declaring in a respected posture
and with all expected fanfare
rules of life on his way
to the next page of history

(If this poem touched you, you may find more about this poetry book in the following link)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763939