The Beauty of a Caterpillar

It is a winding road that I must walk,
And many things to be encountered on the way.
The path is mossy, the sky is dark,
And as I walk, slowly, I come to a stop.

There, camouflaged against the bark of a tree,
Something stirring as it sleeps.
Its stubby legs clinging on to the ridges
Are all that prevents it from making that fatal journey,
Back down to the earth.

Another twitch, and I must tentatively back away,
But something entrances me and I tilt my head forward.
What had once seemed a dull brown
Seemed to be coming alive.
Darker hues weaving a pattern all around its body,
As the lighter tones prevail elsewhere.

The rustle of leaves pulls me away
As a cool breeze travels through the trees.
I glance back at the tree before I start my journey once again,
But cannot see it for it has, once again,
Vanished against the bark of the tree.
And I can only hope that it is still there, clinging on to the ridges,
Not making that fatal journey,
Back down to the earth.

My camouflaged caterpillar.

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