Eat the Invasive By Eudora A.
Yesterday, I saw a little pink caterpillar crawling on the sidewalk. The scent of rain still trickled down from the trees. Its body scrunched in the middle, fat and happy, but its arms stretched up towards the long-disappeared flowers that once clung to the branches of the magnolia. The small greedy mouth had eaten all the yellowed white petals that should have still been in bloom. Only sticks hung limply among the leaves, yet the tiny bug squirming on the concrete was still not full. Its plump legs wriggled, searching for more to destroy. It had eaten every flower, but the rose colored worm, even now, starved. Around it were hundreds more worms, natives.
All dead.
They had not been given their fair share. I squished the caterpillar under my boot, and to my surprise, despite the whole tree destroyed, there were few guts left.
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