The Thousand Leg

The Thousand Leg

He moves along like a rivulet on the ground
Over twigs, rocks and undulations to go round
There's a certain mercurial smoothness to his gait
As ripples among his legs undulate
Each flowing in time from foot to foot
In an ordered progression each is put
Only to pick up that rhythm again
For he is among all quite arcane
And in the dead leaves and enriched soils
He finds the basic life giving oils
Whose estate belie their previous existence
But for him they are pieces-de-resistance
A banquet table for this creature benign
And when he has sufficiently dined
Has only to roll up like an old hose
And sleep in satisfied repose
For he is a many-segmented arthropod
But we see him as being quite odd
He is called a millipede, a thousand leg
And there are questions about which we beg
So he hides and sleeps among the lichens
His only concern to avoid the chickens