Little lives

Believe me, I know too well the feeling
Of grass, or the dun- colored frilly mushroom
Huddled in its pool of purple shadow
As it gazes up through layers of leaves
Turned to green flame by the sun
That never touched it, and sees
How the great angsana tree dominates
Even the brightness of sky by its being.

At these small- feeling times, regard grass flowers
Of mauve florets, and pink and green spikelets
So delicate that perhaps one who has lost all hope
In life may look upon them, and smile.
Look within, see the droplet in its heart
And remember that one day in its life
The sun and rain conspired to make it shine
Brighter than diamonds.

Save snails that wander across your path
In patterned shells, trailing glitter.
Tip them, stunned, upon the grass,
At the place they had dreamed of.
Later they will tell their kin,
Wide- eyed and hushed with wonder,
That once in their lives a miracle happened
And they flew.

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