I watched as he crouched to the ground peering at something I could not see. I moved closer, and saw it was a green inch worm crawling toward the restaurant door. It had taken a tumble from the tree behind it, and was disoriented. Lacking the camouflage of the tree, the worm glowed green against the red stones of the sidewalk, cementing his status as prime bird bait.

The man hesitated, looking around before placing his hand in the path of the worm. The worm inched its way onto his open palm. The man cradled the worm before returning him to the relative safeness of a leaf. A safer spot than the ground, but no guarantees. An intrepid bird, a gust of wind, an aggressive rain drop–anything could wreak havoc on his existence.

I hoped that one day if the man ever needed it, someone would return him to his leaf.