I saw a worm crossing this stone path as I was leaving for the day on a trip. The stones were scorching in the sun. I picked it up and it squirmed in my hand, with unexpected force. It was chaotic and searching, I set it into the grass beneath some ferns, aware of birds nearby. I understand a bird must eat, but I felt sympathy for the journey this worm was on.
When I returned much later, I saw this desiccated worm-like shape on the path. As I had spent the entire day out, I had forgotten about the worm until then. It was curious how it would have had to have double backed to where I had originally found it, leaving what I had presumed to be its destination, a kind of haven of moist soil and stones. There was no sense to it. It seemed tragic, unnecessarily. No bird could even get anything out of this husk.
I was ready to lift it up and deposit it back I realized that it was just a root that had reached through, possibly part of some larger root system underneath (likely a root system the worm is aware of, and has tunneled through).
My mind had betrayed me in a way, in forgetting the story and thinking something else, a tragic end.
