In a space I can traverse in two or three steps, an ant or other creature of similar or lesser size can revel and burrow for days — can pass whole lifetimes and seasons, if the space is left undisturbed. This is why, around the house, I’ve established wilderness areas. Passersby, if they notice them, might see them as weed patches or dandelion infestations. But the miracles that unfold there are a joy to behold. Of course I can’t see them all. That’s a joy too. And it proves the folly and illusion of control.
June 13, 2020
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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Ants, Control, Dandelions, Diaries, Earth, Journals, Joy, Perspective, Wilderness, Wildflowers
William Michaelian 