Disclaimer: One non-owner of Animorphs salutes all the others. (And, Mrs. Applegate, if you should happen to be reading this, I salute you, too.)

Image disclaimer: Reading right to left, top to bottom: The Counter family, NASA, a Tennessee mural painter unknown to me, Pierre Puvet de Chavannes, whoever does the covers for the original books, and Harmen Steenwyck.


Hawks and auks and ibisbills,
And feathered sprites whose joyful trills
Come echoing from distant hills:
I've looked at birds that way.

But when you've been a hawk this long,
You find it hard to hear that song;
You start to wonder: Was I wrong?
Or have I gone astray?

I've looked at birds from both sides now,
From out and in, and still, somehow,
It's birds' illusions I recall;
I really don't know birds
At all.


Seas and fleas and skies of blue;
A distant world my brother knew,
Where aliens live as aliens do:
I've looked at Earth that way.

But now I've lived beneath these skies
And spent whole days in human guise,
And sometimes think, to my surprise,
I might have come to stay.

I've looked at Earth from both sides now,
From there and here, and still, somehow,
It's Earth's illusions I recall;
I really don't know Earth
At all.


Stars and Bars and freeing slaves,
Britannia's quest to rule the waves,
And flowers laid on heroes' graves:
I've looked at war that way.

But when you've walked, with bloodied claws,
Through scenes of death, it gives you pause
To hear a person praise the cause
Who's never seen the fray.

I've looked at war from both sides now,
From pro and con, and still, somehow,
It's war's illusions I recall;
I really don't know war
At all.


Pies and skies and sucker bets,
A way of dodging past regrets,
The fool who asks for what he gets:
I've looked at hope that way.

But when the you-know's hit the fan –
No chance to think, no chance to plan –
Go be a skeptic if you can,
But me, I'd rather pray.

I've looked at hope from both sides now,
From lost and found, and still, somehow,
It's hope's illusions I recall;
I really don't know hope
At all.


Bugs and slugs and filthy worms
Invading us like typhoid germs,
With whom we'll never come to terms:
I've looked at Yeerks that way.

But now I've known a slug by name,
I've saved her life, I've shared her shame,
And when she asks me, "Who's to blame?"
I don't know what to say.

I've looked at Yeerks from both sides now,
From foe and friend, and still, somehow,
It's Yeerks' illusions I recall;
I really don't know Yeerks
At all.


Doom and gloom and rotting bones;
Forgotten names of crumbling stones;
The one defeat no heart condones:
I've looked at death that way.

But now, when there's no hope of flight,
The matter seems so strangely slight:
A simple change from day to night –
Or, maybe, night to day.

I've looked at death from both sides now,
From far and near, and still, somehow,
It's death's illusions I recall;
I really don't know death…
At all…