From the South
Came a mouth
Tried to find
Peace of mind
Under leaves
Of the trees
In the North
Back and forth
To and fro
It would go
Searching here
Searching there
For a meal
Which appealed
To its taste
But in haste
It didn't see
Little me.

A fish's mouth
From the South
Not the place
I would grace
It is plain
I'd feel pain
I would squirm
For I'm a worm.

	Chip Patton, 11-25-1978