A wriggle of worms*

The Worm by Ralph Bergengren


When the earth is turned in spring

The worms are fat as anything.



And birds come flying all around

To eat the worms right off the ground.



They like the worms just as much as I

Like bread and milk and apple pie.



And once, when I was very young,

I put a worm right on my tongue.



I didn't like the taste a bit,

And so I didn't swallow it.



But oh, it makes my Mother squirm

Because she thinks I ate that worm!

I couldn't! I wouldn't! Eeeuuuwwww.
Thanks to Cailleach  for the wildness in Wednesday - we had similar thoughts today. Not quite sure why they're doing this on the rim of the compost bin instead of inside it - perhaps it's too lively inside.

Catch up tomorrow - it's book club chez moi - we're discussing the Long Gaze Back, an anthology of short stories by Irish women writers. Very good in my opinion, but I did recommend it.

* truly, that is the collective noun for worms, or at least one of them