Walking home today I came across an earthworm stranded in the middle of the path. It had managed to get halfway across, but it was trailing moisture on the drying pavement and I guessed it wouldn't be long before it was just another of those desiccated worm-husks you see after the rain dries up, lying here and there like fallen twigs.
I thought about this as I walked on. After about 20 feet I stopped and turned back. Picked up the worm, kicked a divot out of the grass at the side of the path and set it down onto the damp black soil.
Maybe it's still alive, maybe it isn't. But wasn't it worth trying? How is that little life any less significant than mine?
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