In the dewdrop’s gentle cradle, a world so fine,
Lies an existence, humble and divine.
Away from grandeur, it finds its place,
In the quiet corners, life’s tender embrace.

Beneath the canopy of whispering leaves,
Where light through green fingers weaves,
An ant’s march, a spider’s thread,
Stories of small life, quietly spread.

On petals soft and mornings new,
Lives unfold in a dance of dew.
A beetle’s trek, a butterfly’s flight,
In smallness, they find their might.

So let’s celebrate the unseen, the slight,
The humble lives that share our light.
For in their world, we find a reflection,
Of nature’s boundless, tender affection.