Modern Atlas/Red Mountain

I see a grey tree and grey clouds The former stretches its fingers out to cradle the latter Supporting them like a modern Atlas The clouds send their winds to the world as a thank you The tree aches a kind reply Who else could hold the sky anyways? The strength of this oak is unmatched I give the tree a solemn thank you and return to the coarse grass beneath me I roll over on my side to be greeted by a busy colony of ants They boast proud little grins as they march proud little pieces of bread up and down their proud little red mountain I allow one to climb onto my finger and hold him up to my face. "What are you proud of?" He asks I think for a moment "I don't know"