If there’s a worm, a year
To prosper. If a spider,
Woes without number.
If a fly, all will be fair.
If a core ajar, beware.

Year of the worm, you’re
In clover. Fly in there, you’re
In the clear. An eye for
An eye, murmurs the spider.
Neither hide nor hair, no cure.

Another year, another
Hoard to gather. O Sister
Wasp, what lot’s in store?
Your cradle’s our ledger.
Our knock’s at your door.

Crack one open if you dare.
One thing ripens, the other
Festers. Here’s your future
Lurking in its amber sphere,
Sweet or bitter, foul or fair.

If a worm this year, hunger
No more. If a fly, sing for
Your supper. If a spider,
Caterwaul you a river.
If no answer, say a prayer.