It was the sway of the tree limbs,
the gentle hum of the wooden swing.
The sun on my face,
the wind in my hair.
The soft stir of the grass,
the smell of the earth.
It was the way my hands folded,
against my soft, bare lap.
And then I knew.
I had finally found the answer,
of what it means to be small.
To be one in so many different organisms and species.
To be only one,
compared to so many.
It was the comfort,
that even though you are so small.
When you stand up,
walk home,
you smile knowing that someone is waiting for you.