The Rolling Worm

Down earthen steps

Of strange steep slopes

The flat straight worm

Rolls in the sun

Its home bigger than any in the land

For millions of inches of soil

Promising wind patted

And rain soft

Home pressed under the grass

Waves, weather predictions

And bought in face of photographs

Set yourself on the intense rock

Unwashed by cares of alarm

Open minded to the quiet

Contemplation of yourself set by

Slate grey, teal and welcome land.

By J.W.H. Hobbs.