Observationofatreeinabalcony

I’ve heard of wolves walking in the streets of the hills of Tuscany, swans and dolphins swimming in the canals of Venice.
What if I could plunge inside its core?

Imagine the sound of a body of water that is still on the surface but frothing and twirling the more the deeper you go. So you need to go close.

My hand falls.
The eyes follow.
It is less than silent, the quiet of a void.
I become microscopic and infiltrate myself deep into its roots’ fibers, scooping out obstacles with my teeth, sliding between crevices until I can’t go smaller anymore. Creaking, squeaking.
If I would break out from there, would I enjoy the feeling of the humid earth on my skin?

Do you hear that small, distant whistle?
Do you hear your own thoughts moving or being still?

Or maybe I would rather be an ant
captured by that big green plant
Moved by the wind
receiving heat from the sun
clinging on a leaf’s hair
carried and pushed front and back
side to side by the spiraling breeze
I would certainly do my best to hold my six legs tight, almost frozen from both fear and excitement. I hear the rumble from underneath shaking my tiny feet, resonating all the way to my tender, large wings that I have hidden.
My compound eyes moving fast, whirring on and in my head, trying to keep me oriented

stranded away from my colony. The hectic fuzz of it is millions of miles away.

Would they want to hear from me? Now, quickly, let in the majestic sound of a choir singing “God save the Queen”. Sing with me, sing!

Or maybe I would choose to let go and let myself be brushed away. I go out with the gravity of the longest and thinnest whisper you can imagine.
You won’t hear from me again.