bright green caterpillar

I am an aged and disabled pillock,

And I was dragging a loaded shopping trolley,

Up an urban hillock,

When a bright green caterpillar appeared before me,

It was just there,

Level with my eyes

In mid-air.

I stopped, glad for a chance to catch my breath,

As my puzzled brain computed,

How could the caterpillar just be there,

Defying gravity as far as I could see?

But the laws of physics were not dead,

It was hanging by a thread,

Writhing and wriggling,

Struggling and striving,

To climb up its thin thin lifeline,

To regain its footing and food,

From the laburnum bush above.

A green heaven it loved so much,
That it never gave up

Its aim to return from airborne exile.

I watched it win,

Then dragged my shopping home,

With renewed determination,

And wondered if the caterpillar would now,

Stay in the bush

And save the silk

That it used to make its own rescue rope,

To later encase itself in a chrysalis.

Soon I too may enter a rigid container,

But, sadly, I won’t burst from coffin,

To fly away on brilliant wings,

Surprising those at the graveside.