I watch how other things travel
to get an idea how I might move.
A cloud sweeps by silently,
gathering other clouds.
A doodlebug curls in his effort to get there.
A horse snorts before stepping forward.
A caterpillar inches across the kitchen floor.
When I carry him outside on a leaf,
I imagine someone doing that to me.
Would I scream?
In the heart of the day
No one is going anywhere
or coming back.
The blue glass on the table
lets light pass through.
but nothing moves.
I watch that too.
~ Naomi Shihab Nye