Oh, Perfection…

Little fuzzy caterpillar
was jogging lightly
down the branch
of his favorite bush
His brow a little misty
his cheeks a bit pink
All those little feet
in synchronous movement
“Like a well oiled machine, ” he thought
Then he tripped on a tiny twig
Ah, well – so much for perfection…


One leg up on
the rest of the crew
Caterpillar loved
that he was he
and not some silly bug
with only six legs