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t’s a sure sign of spring. On a misty moist morning, the worms come out of the ground. By the hundreds. They emerge on one side of the road, and try to cross to the other side.
Why does a worm cross the road? Might as well ask a chicken.
But worms do seem to have some kind of deep-seated (if that’s possible in a tube measured more by length than depth) compulsion to surface from the soil to seek greener pastures.
It takes a worm a long time to cross a road. Only when I watch closely can I discern movement at all. The front end slithers forward a fraction. Then it has to pause while it drags the hind end along. It extends. It compacts. So it can extend again.
If the two ends of a worm could talk to themselves while they crossed a road, I can imagine a conversation something like this:
Categories: Soft Edges
Tags: worms, flirting