Oak Worms’ War / by Brian Kunde

Oak Worms’ War
by Brian Kunde

From Stanford’s oak trees, every spring,
A horde of worms goes dangling,
And waits impatiently in places
Sure to intersect our faces,
Or our scalps, or gaps between
Our necks and collars. How obscene!

In each and every tree they lurk
To ambush staff enroute to work,
And students in-between their classes;
Anyone, in fact, who passes
Underneath their native oaks:
They harbor hate against such folks.

Just walk their way, and down they drop—
Wriggle, dangle, let go—plop!
They’re in your face. They’re down your back,
And in your hair, on the attack,
Descending down on all in rivers,
Giving everyone the shivers.

I don’t know why these worms should be
So brimming with hostility
Against all blameless passers-by,
But that they are I can’t deny.
It seems so frivolous, so idle—
Not to mention suicidal.

But causes often matter not:
Whatever such may be, we’ve got
To brave the blows these terrors bring
To bear on all of us each spring,
And run that gauntlet we abhor
Each morning of the oak worms’ war.

* * * * *

Oak Worms’ War (B-0010 [B-06.2])
(Poems from the Stanford Libraries: 2)

from Two by Four: and other poems, 3rd ed., Dec. 2000.
An earlier version appeared in
SUL News Notes, Vol. 3, no. 16, Apr. 22, 1994, as “The Oak Worms’ War.”

1st web edition posted 12/27/1995
(updated 1/25/1996).
2nd web edition posted 3/16/1998
(udated 2/15/2000).
3rd web edition posted 6/28/2004.
This page last updated 6/28/2004.