night air makes me wax philosophical

i was sitting outside on the porch last night in the dark, looking up through the sprawling leaves of the trees to the stars, drinking in the evening. until i moved here, i didn't know that air really could be "soft" - i'd read it in books, but figured it was poetry, not fact. but the air was so soft last night ... velvety on my skin and smooth somehow. there was no traffic, only crickets and the occasional rustling in the bushes of some small creature waking up. it was really beautiful - and rather than make me feel my 'smallness' in the scope of creation, it made me see that i am part of the largeness of life...made for a reason by the same hand that made the stars and critters that rustle; not a tiny cog in a big wheel, but my own piece of a glorious puzzle. like davy crowder says, "you make everything glorious - what does that make me?"