I got a new poetry book, a little anthology called Finding the Way Home, and whe...

I got a new poetry book, a little anthology called Finding the Way Home, and when I was out walking early this morning I heard crickets singing in the bushes and it made me think of “Bugs in a Bowl” by David Budbill.

The poem begins with the words of the Chinese poet Han Shan, “We’re just like bugs in a bowl.”

And it ends this way:

“Sit in the bottom of the bowl, head in your hands,
cry, moan, feel sorry for yourself.

Or. Look around. See your fellow bugs.
Walk around.

Say, Hey, how you...