A different kind of book worm

Hi everyone,

When I went out at 7:00 to pick up the paper, I discovered an earthworm under it.

In my book, BUGS, POEMS ABOUT CREEPING THINGS, I wrote a poem:

Bugs moved under
my welcome mat.
If bugs can’t read,
explain that.

I’ve always said
that bugs are pests,
but bugs who read
are welcome guests.

This morning’s worm brought that flashback and tempted me to reprise it for the sake of the intellectual worm in my driveway. I haven’t written a word yet but can already feel a good character in the making.