Wriggles

The worm wriggles in the mud,
resilient, resistant, resigned.
The bird hops quick, expectant,
and scissors the worm in half.
Still wriggling, the worm half dangles
from the bright yellow bird beak blade.
The second worm half squirms blindly,
digging for safety with its head,
blind to the fate of a newborn brother
soon swallowed and born upon wing.