Inchworm

This morning before the storms hit, I was working outside on the deck. As I read a story for my critique group, in my peripheral vision I saw something small and green dangling from the gutter: an inchworm was slowly lowering itself along an invisible thread. When the wind gusted, the little creature swung wildly back and forth. When the air grew calm again, it continued lowering itself, little by little.

As I watched, I thought that maybe there's a lesson for us: the inchworm doesn't need firm ground as long as it had the one thin strand to cling to and to guide it.

At last--partially out of pity and partially because I didn't want it swinging in my face--I interrupted my meditation on the lessons of nature and gave the inchworm a rest on the story.

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Speaking of my critique group, we are now the poster children for critique groups, at least in St. Louis. Go here (scroll down to the second picture) to see our smiling faces.