A Little Boy's Request To His Mother

O let me peel the bark back

and see what lies beneath:

an army of ant soldiers

marching west to east,

or termites burrowing deep

toward the centre of the rings,

or woodlice doing what woodlice do—

some mysterious thing.

O let me take a little look,

I promise I won’t break it.

I just want a tiny peek

to see all the tree’s secrets.

The bark is hard and rough,

I like the way it feels—

but I don’t think I like it more

than mud under my heels.