When i was three, I fell in a red anthill.
I still remember screaming,
the feeling of the ants crawling all over me,
and how long it took my mom to get them off.
I was afraid of bugs for years
In my thirties I became enamored with butterflies,
the bursting out of a cocoon and flying free
roughly equating the journey i had made.
The story goes a fly
fell into a young practitioner's tea
at the monastery.
He told the monk,
who hastened away with cup and fly
The young man assumed
the monk was embarrassed
and would return with fresh tea
When the monk came back, he whispered
reassuringly: "the fly will be all right",
in that moment causing a cosmic shift
in the young man's Western mind.
For Kim's prompt at Real Toads: bugs.