Mr. Bug

A bug may be a common sight,
people step on them day or night,
all you might hear is a slight scrunch,
as they expire beneath the shoe's crunch.

Slow down!
Take that closer look,
that dear fellow is an open book,
of science, and life, and mystery, just look!

Sluggish and unattractive he might be,
But he pays no rent and he lives free,
Food is usually stuff we leave behind,
Scraps of things, whatever he finds.

Why does he have six legs,
He looks like a tank on tent pegs,
With pads for landing should he fall,
At ½ inch, he really isn’t very tall.

A skin that is more like sheet metal,
A pair of wings to fly, an airborne kettle,
He dives and rises like a drunken bird,
But he doesn’t care and utters not a word.

Sometimes, Mr. Bug’s life is also hard,
Natural enemies, such as the birds are,
I wonder if he’s even aware of them at all,
I even wonder if he can hear his mother call