Transported Poem by June Walker

There are few butterflies
in the city- a couple of cabbage whites,
a tortoiseshell, and, if you are lucky,
a peacock butterfly with eyes that seem
to see.
Although, one night out walking,
I saw two silk moths-
size of fruit bats- flapping by.

And, the other day, as I trod carefully
along the overgrown path
where rats sometimes cavort, I saw-
crawling carefully across the dirt,
a glint in its eye and determined
demeanour- a large brown and gold striped
caterpillar. Hairs like spears
along its back.

I bent down,
offered it my finger to crawl on,
and it accepted- like those thousands
of tickling caterpillars,
years and years ago,
in my youth.