In the Hours of the Small Sun and the Long Shadows

In the Hours of the Small Sun and the Long Shadows

         In the hours of the small sun and the long shadows, between the towering trees and the sidewalk’s edge, a nearly-hidden world stirs with activity.  If you look closely, you can see single blades of grass bend flat and then spring back straight.  Even in the still days of late summer, blades move without wind and without pattern.

        

         You, in your bright red tennis shoes, see the moving grass.  You, who will never step on crack in the sidewalk because you love your mother, see the tiny creatures of the miniature world.

         Softly walk to the edge of the pavement.  Slowly breathe in the sharp, green scent and look into the tall grass.  Silently watch the blades move without wind and without pattern.

         When your eyes adjust to the fading light, peer into the dark spaces of the grassy tents.  A stalk moves and you are looking into the eyes of a bright emerald sentinel.  It is a knightly grasshopper.  Look again and see his fellow green knights guarding the entrance of the miniature world.  The sentinel sees you, and with the slightest of movements, you are welcomed into his realm.  You dare not step from the sidewalk to the grass for fear of crushing the tiny creatures, but you may stay to view this very small world.

         Frogs, no bigger than your thumb, leap from blade to blade.  Sometimes, if a pretty girl walks by, they will plop onto the sidewalk and croak “kiss me”.  But pretty girls are wise to such tricks.  They walk past these false princes as if they were silent stones.

         A string of ants funnel through the perfect roundness of their nest.  Each ant carries a load heavier than himself on his back.  One ant’s back bends under grain of sugar, that one, a poppy-seed.

         At the center of the miniature world stands a white silk and damp crystal fortress.  It was perfectly designed and formed by an eight-legged artist, the spider.  She stands near her lovely castle, but not in it.  An unlucky ant broke from the string of others and has stumbled into the castle.  His feet are caught on the palace floor.  You try to free him, but the sticky wisps of wall only tear and try to capture you.

         Fluttering above the brightly-colored flowers, you can see the even more brightly-colored fairy princesses, the butterflies.  Their wings tickle the breeze as they kiss the heads of their loyal courtiers.

        

         The fairy princes in silver armor and glassy wings hover around edges of the miniature world.  One flits over your head and startles you.  The regal dragonfly quizzes you.  You hope that you have answered all his questions correctly so that you can stay.  He hums away to give your answers to the queen.

         The queen is smaller than you expected, but when you look at her again, you see that, like another great queen, she is dressed in amber and jet.  Her wings are living crystal and she carries her scepter behind her.  The flowery courtiers bow before her.  She swoops down to receive their gifts.  When she buzzes to you, you cringe in respect and fear.  She is a majestic bee.  She is pleased to let you stay, or is unconcerned.  She returns to her flowers.

         You want to enter this small but lively realm.  You think that perhaps you will.  Your bright red tennis shoe is about to leave the sidewalk when you look down and see with a start that you have lost your shadow.  Your shadow has melted into the gray of the setting sun.  Just then, your remember that your mother told you to be home before dark.  You run home, pelting the sidewalk with your red shoes, but you are careful not to step on a crack because you love your mother.