The day is warm on my face, so I emerge from my home
to track down supplies. It shouldn’t be too bad, I can enjoy the breeze
and how the sun trickles on my limbs.
Scuttling along, intending to be content.
Do I really need my shell?
There’s nothing to bruise my soft body here–
whoosh.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
What is that? Those startling things
all herded in groups or alone with noses in black mirrors?
They don’t even see me.
Feet stomping, arms swinging, brows furrowed.
Blind to a little crab trying to find food and appreciate the air.
Better be getting home, before they extinguish me with their ignorance.
Treeshallow Musings 