I saw you in that traditional place –
the bathtub –
small and crawling,
trying ever more feverishly to cling to the sides.
But every eight steps saw you slip and fall;
I could bear to watch it no more.
With shaking hands I picked you up,
placed you on the windowsill
and said farewell.
I thought no more of you
until a cousin
hitched a ride on my leg.
It was hot and the ground warm,
so I suppose I was the logical choice.
Transportation in a breeze.
And more recently, another friend
joined in with my morning yoga;
my back arched in cobra position
and they splayed out fully.
I wondered who would win.
Sensing my surprise, they scurried away.
I thought that was the end of the visits,
but in writing this,
approval had to be met,
so on the wind came another
to notate the ink
with swift legs.