I rescued it from my bird bath,
an ugly green fellow
of no visible value, I thought,
and placed him on a coneflower.
But how presumptuous:
though I conquered old instincts,
I did not know even his name,
and so now I’d say,
Live on little bug--
go and do what you must do.
Keep yourself alive
until you have done your duty,
and fill the pool with genes,
because, for what we know,
your continuing might be
the key to all continuation.
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