Gone is the worm, that tunnel body. Gone is the mouth
that loved leaves and tomatoes.
Gone are the innumerable feet.
He is beautiful now, and shivers into the air
as if he has always known how,
who crawled and crawled, all summer.
He has wide wings, with a flare at the bottom.
The moon excites him. The heat of the night excites him.
But, where did the dance come from?
Surely not out of a simple winter's sleep.
Surely it's more than ambition, this new architecture!
What could it be, that does it?
Let me look closer, and a long time, the next time
I see green-blooded worm crawling and curling
hot day after hot day
among the leaves and the smooth, proud tomatoes.