When I am silent and still long enough,
Tiny creatures cautiously make their way,
Out of hushed hiding.
The winged perch on rooftops warmed by the morning,
Arthropods and insects creep out of cool grassy shadows,
My pause provides cover for their communal living.
Songs and skittering,
Wandering and weaving,
Buzzing by and hovering,
I cannot keep myself from wondering,
Have I faded into the scenery?
Another flowering weed growing wild?
Or do they sense that I am different,
And allow my presence anyway,
Because I have stopped a moment, and allowed for theirs.
–by Me
Spider in the Grass, by Lois Dodd
sometimesihatemycat 