In the ash and sand of Stoneyfalls
the little kwama lost his way
He hurps and durps, to his mother calls
but the volcanoes do not sway.
The Forager passed him
burbling then, with sand and skrit upon his back
He tripped and lost his front-right shoe
and wished he'd brought some kind of snack.
The Worker rawped him
chiding then, angry at the loss of time
He tripped and lost his back-left shoe
and skittered legs-past, up to climb.
The Warrior snarled him
fighting then, bites and snaps at nasty shalk
He tripped and lost both-other-shoes
avoiding monsters, things that stalk.
The Queen found him then
cries and leaks all down his face
She cracked his chitin for those lost shoes
and ate him squealing for his disgrace.