Colonies of May apples now well established, their parasols open and crowding, we like to imagine ourselves an inch tall and wandering in a forest more astonishing than James Cameron can create, and real.
We kneel, yesterdays rain soaking through our jeans, to look beneath the umbrellas at the web of veins and cells not so different from our own, not so different.
Perhaps our pulse is motor-driven, but the surge is the same.
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
