isn’t afraid,           worms 
plunging            hands in dirt
the earth          of becoming
scenting         her fingernails
never                with a shovel
for fear                   of splitting 
a wriggler                  in two 
always losing               track of rings
an earring                          time 
by the birdfeeder—             oh
watch me grow                will you?       
i’ll crawl                     slow like sweet 
pea if you                 promise
to pay                    attention
direct your            sun 
gaze at                  me.