How does a little one work,
who sits upon a leaf
when upon a morn
a dog shakes the plant
and little one hangs on?

A pea of a body,
four legs down each side,
the second two from the front
sprayed out to feel the wind
and not stand...

Little friend, your body red,
I can only think of the journey
that all your forebears weathered
to bring you upon this form
after many a day's storm.

Here you stand, miraculous,
not an arachnid I am told,
but I, you, we are not
so different, we are,
little ones.