Be like the water droplet.
Dew droplet.
Whatever.

Be an implausibly perfect sphere of liquid held together by nothing but the sheer magnitudinal force of your smallness.

Like a black hole
But not like a black hole
If you think about it

Bee ba dabee
a like a a a
A doobitty
Drip

Drip drip

Drop

Sittin’ cool on a rubberish fat emerald leaf.
Ready to dribble away in the breeze.
Or fizz away in the heavy hot of the sun.
Plink. Plink. Plink. if you’re the rain,
and you need to swoop in like a big ol big deal
Or—if you’re dew—don’t be a droplet be a riselet!
Rise up in the middle of the night when no one’s paid to be looking for you.
Manifest yourself out of thick air when all is cold and dark.

And as the cloak of sun-starved darkness is pulled away
(across the ground) (and fronds) (and blades)
by the coming day...

There you are: an implausibly perfect sphere of liquid
held together by nothing but the sheer magnitudinal force of your smallness.

A focus. Tensed surface
Throwing back, in funhouse curved light
A chance for a moment of reflection —
Cast back at whatever mantis or wugabug has cast you as its quencher.

Little drop-eau-lette.
Quietly trickling the keys of the glorious green photosynthesizers.
The silent clef accompaniment for
the treble-tweeters,
the squeak-and-chirpers, and
carapaced bass-buzzers of the dawn chorus.

You’re apart, a part, but not participating.
Wait and watch and go;
Knowing the magnitude of your contribution and the majesty in your subtle poise.

Never shall another little droplet be exactly where you landed with precisely your shape and size
— BUT —
always shall each other droplet be basically exactly the same anyway
— AND —
isn’t that lovely in its own way, too?