Crystal clear, blue sky, warm sun; cool breeze.
It was a perfectly beautiful Spring day.
The kind of day you want to permanently capture in your mind,
and take a trip there, anytime that you please.
Flying around, with not a care in the world, until . . .
He chose to land on the wrong spot.
Across the air, he sailed, landing on the hard, rustic surface;
lying, helpless, on his back - his legs, dangling, toward the sky.
Why, why, WHY did he have to land on my finger like that? I asked.
When I was a child, I would not even harm an ant,
believing that all creatures had a purpose and deserved a chance.
Watching him wriggle and squirm, I just could not take it.
I removed the shoe from my foot, and . . .
I had to do it.
It's all over for him now.
And, so it is . . .
one minute, flying around, happy and carefree,
enjoying the blue sky, the warm sun, the cool breeze . . .
the next - unrecognizable, lying squished on a dead piece of wood.
In that moment, just for a brief moment, as I was feeling the weight of my sorrow,
I stared at that dead, squished bug, and thought,
I wish someone would put me out of my misery.
But, I am the one with the feet and,
as weakened as my spirit may be,
I have to lift myself up and carry the weight of my troubles . . .
see the sky, feel the sun, touch the breeze . . .
AND, JUST TRY NOT TO LAND
ON THE WRONG SPOT.