reading in my backyard

So I'm sitting in my backyard.
The grass is wet on my bare feet, and the book in my hand is begging me to read it.
I start reading and suddenly I lose interest in the ink on the pages and my eyes drift up to the clouds sitting above my imagination.
The expanse of sky is almost unbearable without any shoes on; it's hard to ground yourself against the weight of the sky.
The farther into the clouds I looked, the smaller I felt, and the more contempt I had for the wandering wisps of reddening white.
To be a person in a town full of people that doesn't really matter in an area full of towns that don't really matter in a state full of cities in a country full of states on a planet full of countries that don't REALLY matter can make you feel pretty light.
So the trick is to balance the weight of the sky with the lightness of your insignificance. If you can get that, you're ok.