Acorn

On most journeys in, he is hovering above the Everyman. Closing his eyes, he know this.

He can't help but to peek down at them and wonder if they notice the creature above.

Often strands of their hair will float up in the wind and brush up against his soles.

Other times he takes great leaps and bounds across them like the expanse of a towering suspended bridge across an insignificant stream,

And yet higher he can fly! Until his attention inevitably turns upwards.

Where titans in great metal monstrosities glide above the clouds.

The air beneath his feet is quickly sucked out and he tumbles down like an acorn accustomed to life high up in the trees and coddled by its leaves; learning the harsh reality that he was just a visitor--a tenant--always destined to tumble down and eventually live out his days amongst all the other discarded.

And he thinks about why, how, and if it matters, with all the other acorns who never reached their great oaken potential.