Of all of the trunks of the tallest-standing trees, of all of the places where the river water streams, 

of all of the forests in all of the land, 

it was this little branch where Lola Ladybug would stand.

Stand and dream she could fly and how the animals would clap.

Stand and envy the others and the way their wings flap.

Lola loathed herself because she couldn’t fly. She’d do anything to touch the clouds in the sky.

The more that she dreamed the more that she realized, her wings would never work, and she’d never see the skies.

So as these scary, bad thoughts crept into her mind,

Lola began to wander down a winding trail of pine.

She wandered,

and wandered.

Lola didn’t mean to have wandered so far, but these thoughts she was having had blocked her North star.

They’d befuddled her and twisted her feelings, clouded her judgment, and sent her off reeling.

And when she’d finally seen she was lost with no direction, she searched for some help when something caught her attention.

It was a mossy green log lying down by a pond. A safe place to think, to nestle into a frond.

Inside of the log Lola buried her face. She wondered how she’d get home if she couldn’t find a trace.

Then a grumbling sound startled the bug and she jumped straight out of her cozy leaf snug.

    “Hello?” Lola called out, into the darkness, then she heard another grumble and flinched at the sharpness. She gulped a big gulp and burrowed into the ground. She shrieked at the shadow that had been making the sound.

    “Please don’t eat me!” Lola began to say, but stopped when it hopped into a nearby sunray.