I would look up to
The distant stars for perspective
But above me there are only
Grey blankets of 
Low hanging,
Moist and ready clouds.
Below me there is wet grass,
Shy white mushrooms between the blades
Aggressive sharp wildflowers 
Every place where even an inch of dirt
Can be taken
I can hear around me the rustling
Of some fellow early riser
Furtively moving in the green
To find food
I smile to myself
Maybe they 
Too look for inspiration
On this fertile earth
Or maybe they look above
At me
And wonder as at stars