ode to the potato bug

Six tiny, agile legs and a sleek obsidian exoskeleton,
Children love you
And the way you tickle
Their small hands.
You make them laugh.
Adults look at you listlessly
With no concern as to where you are going
Or where their foot lands.
Do you have a mate, Potato Bug?
Children? Family? Home?
What is your quest at this moment?
Food? Shelter? Escape?
You are more than you appear
And I’m afraid most people
Underestimate you.
But you live daily with the fear
Of sudden death, of no food.
You are hardly different from any one of us.
I salute you.