Poetic

Last night Sam handed me a piece of paper and said, "I am supposed to be a poet." On the paper he had written:

On the ground I see ...

I see on the ground. An ant.
A roly poly.
A root on the ground.
What do you see on the ground.
Especially dirt.
Sometimes mud.
Grass on the ground.
Houses outside.
Especially friends.
I see my mom.
I see my dad.

Look out e.e. cummings.