In search of story


Connections: November 4.17

If I were a bug

with multiple arms

would it add on to

my considerable charms?

Would my hands and brain

be more in sync

when I scratched my head

and tried to think?

Or would I confuse

my arms with legs

and kick myself

in zigs and zags

and as grande finale

clumsily obnoxious

fall all twisted

on my bug proboscis?



More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives

and to the D.J. Berg store of whimsy.






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Connections: September 30.17

In the center of this twiggy heap

you’ll spy a dot of red

it’s the littlest tiniest bug

yes, a bug is what I said!

The littlest tiniest busiest

scurrying as if crazed

HOLD STILL! I ordered grandly

but he raced about, unfazed.

I couldn’t count his legs

they were just a blur

I couldn’t see a wing

scale, feather or fur

so I think it was a bug

bright as cinnamon heart

harrumphing at out-sized humans

who seem not to be all that smart.