We meet again, young debutante!
but what next?
shall we ponder over coffee,
or dance through the streets
with only our thoughts to keep rhythm?

Let us ask thine friend, the caterpillar.
nay, he says, neither are to be,
it is a picnic that you seek.
where the ground is warm,
and the sun is hot.

What a grand idea!
I shall go right off
to make thy picnic one of perfection!
but where to start?

to the butcher for meat.
the baker for bread.
...............................

Why must he bother me yet again?
He stalks me like a shadow,
claiming I talk to caterpillars.
he’’s raving mad!

A picnic? I will do no such thing?
however, I can use this to my advantage.

The butcher’s cleaver never looked so beautiful,
the soft glimmer in the light,
Oh but if i could get my hands on it!

His back is turned, now’s my chance!
.................................

Oh dearest! please have some ham and bread.
come sit by me and tell me of your day!
Oh I pray you tell me about your learnings!

What beautiful hair you have!
It glows like the sun shines,
and your dress is even more beautiful than before,
tell me, how do you radiate such beauty?
................................

I will lie.
I can feel the cleaver in my bag,
a weight on my shoulder,
the meat and bread are horrid.
he is so pathetic!

Beauty is the way the blood spurted from his chest!
glowing is how my face feels when it is splashed with his blood!
gentle is the wind over his lifeless body.
Oh what a grand picnic indeed!