A Gentle ant whispered along the upside of a leaf.
The vibrations in its steps didn’t sway the leaf, but affected it in a way.
Everything is connected.

The ant wisped around the stem and onto a branch,

which came from a thick, matured base,

which came from grasping, strong roots,

which came from an early seed,

which came from another tree

that probably had an ant crawling on it as well.

Relative to ant generations, its biological line could have dated back to that tree.
But this ant—the one in present ant times—was still crawling,
crawling through thick ridges of bark like a hiker through the Appalachians.
Valleys dragged on for miles and it became a somber exercise.
The ant got lost in erratic movement, making intemperate progress.
Those that challenge gravity will eventually fall.

It is how everything is connected,

falling sometimes in a graceful and delicate spin of momentum–

only to climb back up.

The ant had fallen a day earlier, but this was different;
it had learned from its unfortunate debasement.

It stuck out a leg and an antenna enough to swivel its thorax.
The pirouette was pivotal—pragmatic at best.

It is how everything is connected.

Hexagons were like windows for every direction,
and the ant readied itself, assembling the fall.

It orchestrated physics and momentum through physical memory,
but in the attempt, a pale puff of wind caught the insect’s head.

There was rush of air molecules, which were of an ocean, born of the moon.
There was a rush that resonated confusion through its anticipating antennae.
And it landed on its head.

Thwack! It was loud for the ant.
Thwack! It was loud for the man stepping back with strength.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The man grew weak, the ant lay squashed, and the tree thundered to the ground.

A fall is a fall,
A death is a death,
A step is a step,
And everything is connected within the fall.