Tiny crustaceans,
Curled up in damp rotting wood,
No disquise wood lice.
In the dead of night,
Hiding under moonlit stones,
Life scuttles on.
A shield-bearers guise,
They are what they are,
Silent survivors.
Steve Halstead
Tiny crustaceans,
Curled up in damp rotting wood,
No disquise wood lice.
In the dead of night,
Hiding under moonlit stones,
Life scuttles on.
A shield-bearers guise,
They are what they are,
Silent survivors.
Steve Halstead