Among Clumps of Autumn Leaves

In the recesses of autumn woodland shadows I sense villages of miniscule creatures – ants, beetles, chiggers They are spending their lives constantly moving, working, hiding, and digging. The leaves are turning, giving me a sense of impending winter. These creatures are protected under the cover of these red and yellow leaves. I see them not, yet, I sense them. Knowing they would scurry at the giant, me. Are they dangerous? Rioting? Screaming for solitude? Playing tiny guitars? Or are they merely teeny beings, working themselves to death, like us?