Observer

I watch how other things travel

to get an idea how I might move.

A cloud sweeps by silently,

gathering other clouds.

A doodlebug curls in his effort to get there.

A horse snorts before stepping forward.

A caterpillar inches across the kitchen floor.

When I carry him outside on a leaf,

I imagine someone doing that to me.

Would I scream?

In the heart of the day

nothing moves.

No one is going anywhere

or coming back.

The blue glass on the table

lets light pass through.

Something shines

but nothing moves.

I watch that too.