Little moves, Really

From some high place
I watch life:
Nature

The Earth and dead things
That sit unknowing,
Silent, still.

The tall life
Green,
Growing, moving
Little moves, really

Scurry from place to place
Sway
In this breeze or that

I like to just look down
Watch life

See all the little moves?
They're fascinating.
Swirls, miniscule and beautiful.

Am I afraid?
Maybe, to join
All that living...
Little moves, really.

Endlessly fascinating.
All that movement
(But, like the green)
Never seems to go anywhere.

Sometimes, I'd rather stand right in the middle of all of it,
like this building, watching all the
Little moves, really.
Inside me, all around
Life stirring

Rather play at dead
Than think of something to say.

Breathing,
Scurrying,
Playing,
Swaying,
All the
Little moves, really
The scenery never really changes,
Though the (social) climate seems to.

Setting the dead things apart
All comes down to the
Little moves, really.




Can it really be that different?