Niche

Let's say I was stuck in a hole,
a hole that was deep,
six feet,
so my fingers could just barely reach
And let's say that no one's around,
because even if people were near
I doubt, being me,
that I'd ask them for help
because there have been holes
much more deep
than six feet.

A couple of options, I'd have at that point.
I could dig some dirt steps
and walk out.
I could yell at the top of my lungs
'cause I'm mad
or cry at the pit of the hole
'cause I'm sad.

I could learn to eat worms, mud, and small vegetation
and live in the dark of the earth.
Turn into a mole
with no eyes and webbed toes
and a snout that frightens off strangers.

Here in the hole
there are frail fallen leaves
suspended in web of a spider that weaves
There's my hair and my toes
(yes, I'm quite fond of those
despite their new wardrobe of moss)
There's a view of the sky,
blue and orange, black and white
changing along with the day.

Oh it may look pathetic
to see me sub-surface,
when everyone knows that the best creatures fly,
but this six foot deep hole
feels like home to a mole
who enjoys life, just watching the sky.