Caterpillar

You’re usually found on trees, branches, twigs, leaves, walking, munching happily; not on the open ground, a roadway where unaware feet may trample you and certainly swift quadrillion times your weight cars will crush you to nothing. You’re lumbering along on the roadway we share this morning. Knowing your fragility, I lift you up (afraid of me, you curl into a complete circle of soft bristles), I’m amazed at your non weight in my hand, and place you on the nearest branch where my mind tells me you belong. Did I just disrupt the order of life?