Page 21 - flying stones

the monarch’s song to Zhenya

part 1: caterpillar

I cannot recall when I first came to know

the warm sun glowing over my milkweed leaf

that stirs me to grow - or how my 16 feet
taste the creamy vegetable greens

I eat so neatly that none goes to waste.

and I eat and I eat and I eat.

I do not know why the meadow sings

with chirping, clicking, buzzing winged things.
or why dewdrops stumble my path;

then give way, leaking in day’s heat.
and I eat and I eat and I eat.