I am a Mountain to Some

 

I am a mountain to some.  Towering over the landscape as they look up at my craggy nose and elongated face.  Never mind I am not talking about people, awed or not.  I am sitting under a tree in a foldable chair at my daughter’s field hockey practice on a Monday night.

I felt self-important for nearly a moment.  What I did not tell you was that those to whom I am a mountain are the bugs that suddenly found my appearance baffling but not unwelcome.  There were several of the same kind, tiny and green, but then an ant and others as well.

I swept them all off with an initial burst of disdain.  But now I feel bad.  They are just curious about this outsized interloper who has set himself in the place where they live and strive to survive.  Oh, now one is crawling straight down my screen.  I’ll try to ignore him.

And a bird is pecking around not five feet away.  It is ignoring me if I remain still and hill-like.  I am not quite mountainous to this significantly larger creature who eats bugs.  Maybe it is envious its meal has chosen me as a refuge.  It’s nice to feel the breeze blowing.

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