Here is her pride, rain-wet,

standing on unsteady feet,

bowed backbone arched

above bandy baby legs.

–

The child is looking down

at the washed out worm

that is barring her path

like a great orme.

–

She will not step over

nor will she go round

nor can she ignore

this curling creature.

–

Mother comes up to her

watches the wriggling thing

alongside her daughter

and laughs.

–

She moves forwards

and stamps on the worm,

leaves a bacon rind smear

across the pavement.

–

The daughter stamps too,

missing the streak,

but getting the message,

learning, remembering.

–

This is how to treat them,

the creatures of the world,

this is what you do, my pet,

you kill them, little girl.