Wiggly Worms

You slither through the fertile soil.
Beneath my toes you ceaseless toil.
Both death and refuse you consume,
And make the prairie flowers bloom.

When heaven cedes the raindrops fall,
You fearless on the surface crawl.
But when the sun fills up the skies,
You dry up quick and fossilize.

In rusty can on fishing hook,
Within my favorite picture book,
You make the little girls squirm.
But you're my friend, O little worm.