Sizing Up

To a pine cone lying on a knoll,
The nearby tree's its mom.
To a worm emerging from its hole,
A raindrop is a bomb.
To a beetle crawling 'cross the ground,
A puddle is a lake,
To an ant at work inside its mound,
My footstep is a quake.

To an aphid floating on a twig,
A ripple is a wave.
To a termite hunting wood to dig,
A nail hole is a cave.
To a centipede soon after birth,
A sand grain is a ball.
To a busy mole beneath the earth,
A tree root is a wall.

To a cricket creeping through our lawn,
Our mower is a tank.
To a fly that's peeping when I yawn,
My toothpick is a plank.
To a June bug newborn in the wild,
A toadstool is a tree.
In the new view of a little child,
A giant could be me.