Nature Poem

Since we've been talking about William Wordsworth, the "nature poet," in my English class, we went on a nature walk on Monday. I wrote a poem, if it can be technically called that. I just did the last 5 lines, but everything before that was just spur-of-the-moment. I might make a version that rhymes at some point.



The symphony of birds and wind
Among the pillars of trees, the vaulted ceiling of leaves;
Rushing rivers, vast oceans, towering peaks,
Endless deserts, bottomless canyons;
Our beautiful blue sphere
Hurtling around the sun;
Countless stars, infinite planets
Across unimaginable distance
I am tiny, a speck of dust.
I am meaningless, unnoticed.

And yet, I stand a behemoth among the grass;
A tiny pillbug makes its way between my feet.
Pebbles are as boulders,
Mounds are mountains, ruts the greatest canyons.
A grassy field is as a ceaseless, ancient forest.
A pile of rubbish, branches and logs,
A hidden world all its own.
Fallen leaves a massive canopy; vast, unreachable,
Shelter from the sun and storms.
A hill drops off into a whole new world:
Dry to moist, light to darkness.
A whole world beneath my feet,
I am too big, too important to notice, to care.

I am the tiny speck of dust lost in the infinite universe.
I am the behemoth above the world in the grass and dirt.
I am man.