Toy cars beneath my feet
Commuting from A to B
Too aware of their finite time
To pause and gaze up.
The summit of the world
Giants contemplate the artificial world below
I morph into the rock I rest upon,
And observe them.
Moss grows around my toes,
Begins to sprout its green fingers up my legs.
Faraway voices chat about life down below
I am engulfed by morass.
Previously published in Peeking Cat Poetry.