I heard that bamboo is not a real tree.
Actually a grass, and then it struck me.
A forest of bamboo is just a tall lawn.
Take a walk there on any bright morn,
And ta-dah, you’re now like an ant,
Scuttling on all sixes… Oh wait, you can’t.
Looking up into the further-away sky,
Seeing humans that can pass by,
Humongous shapes, earthquake slow,
Creating tremors as they go.
You can imagine other living things,
Scurrying around you with legs or wings.
You are tiny and so are they,
Just a tiny insect, hidden in hay.