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Under rocks,

in decaying vegetation,

the may grub lives a life

consuming grubbier morsels,

shedding skins, expanding

towards its freedom.


In time, it climbs

the stalk called home,

through the water’s surface,

spreads silken wings

in ecstatic flight

with new found partners.


A fool’s freedom?

The mouth-less mayfly dies

before the day has spent

while through the river’s depths

new life throngs

amongst the stones. 

Michael R Chapman
~ master of none ~
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