The
insect is a creature, small,
He walks on ceilings, walks on walls,
And burrows deep within the earth,
But many cannot see his worth.
The Caterpillar,
full of fuzz,
Is not a bee; he doesn't buzz,
But he becomes a butterfly,
And causes those who see to sigh.
The Ladybug, with
shiny shell,
Is really cute, but she can smell,
On autumn leaves she loves to roam,
Her babies wait for her at home.
The Water-spider is
profound,
One top of water he is found,
Then takes a bubble to his home,
To breath the air inside this dome.
So many insects run
around,
In many places they are found,
Outside, and sometimes in our house,
From there we always want to rouse.
Without the insects,
life would be,
A little sadder, you'll agree,
So treat each insect with respect,
Please set them free and don't collect.
by
David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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