An ant races, ready for attack,
At the base of my bare foot.
“Kill it!” I would have thought
Not so long ago,
Only because of the threat I saw,
The threat, this tiny ant might hold.
Scurrying into the shadow of my enormous foot
He really is no match at all
For the place my foot might put him
If I ever chose,
But today, I let him go.
The rains fall, quenching the parched ground.
Green shoots erupt from somewhere
Deep within the once desolate land.
Growing into flowers, herbs, trees, and such
They heal, and feed, and shelter.
Alive in full circle,
Are the plants and animals
Of our land.
Yet really no connection at all is seen,
To an ant, a plant, or you and I.
However, in the simpler scheme of things
We are all, really much the same.
We all have to eat, and drink, and breathe,
We all have our job and place.
That little ant, the drop of rain,
The seedling that takes shape
Deserves respect the same.
It is in these small miracles
that occur each and every day,
Much like a drop of rain was born,
How the blade of grass turned green,
Or the growing weed in the garden
Found the energy to return,
Or how the pesky ants we spray
And unconsciously continue to swat away
Keep coming back each and every year-
That every living being should be reminded
We are all, simply alive and together, here.