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.”