Wormortality

Rainy weather and wet earth always seem to compel the earthworms to surface from the dark depths of their  muddy subterranean habitat. I admire their bravery as they boldly squirm across the cement sidewalks, but I pity their foolishness as countless pairs of sneakers, sandals and boots stomp carelessly on their soft, pink bodies. While earthworms need the wet weather to keep their fragile bodies moist during the dangerous sidewalk commute, I can't help but fear for their safety. I imagine the tiny, inaudible scraping sounds their flesh make as they  wriggle over the rough cement terrain. We've all seen the earthworms who don't make it back to the safety of the moist earth before the sun beams waves of burning light over their delicate bodies, drying their skin and stiffening their movements. Perhaps in panic an earthworm has tried to eat through the rock hard sidewalk to reach the safety of the soft soil below. But such efforts are in vain. The worm is trapped in a cement desert. As the moisture evaporates from the earthworm's skin, it's slimy body adheres to the sidewalk, creating a sort of temporary fossil until a curious child picks at it's hardened corpse or a hungry dog scrapes the worm up with it's sharp teeth for a tiny snack.

I have a special fondness for earthworms and I'm not ashamed of it. They are fascinating to watch, but also play a crucial role in the ecosystem by breaking down dead plant matter and enriching the soil. Whenever I must commute along a wet sidewalk, I can't help but look down and try to avoid crushing my wormy friends. I stomp along the worm desert at record speeds, tinged with guilt as my worm friends squirm inch by inch with all their might to reach their dirty destinations before the sun swallows the life out of them.

Close encounter