It’s different—yikes! It has no fur.
Oh, look how fast they run!
And that one has so many legs!
(It’s worse when they have none!)
The ones that slither creep me out,
‘Cause I don’t move like that
And I am used to eyes that blink—
My friends, my dog, my cat.
But come to think, I guess that they
Can’t help the way they’re born
Or hatched or how they move around,
Or how their skin in worn.
And, I guess, they have a heart
And most have bones like me,
And need their food and water, too
And some safe place to be.
And now I see that each of them
Just goes about its day,
Too busy to give me a thought,
Just going its own way.
So maybe I can look anew
At all the ways we’re made.
I think that I would rather be
Observant than afraid.
So it was waiting all along,
This thought that I’ve just had:
“Different,” while it startles me
Is not the same as “bad.”