When I walk under a tree,
I always look up.
I watch the branches that are closest to me
as they move past, seemingly moving faster than
the branches further up the tree.
It’s a mesmerizing illusion.
Because in fact the branches are not moving at all,
I am the one who’s moving.
Like the earth moves around the sun.
Like the sun moves around the milky way.
A little cog in a factory somewhere.