the specialist

I could slot myself into some little specialized niche, become very good at one thing and be over looked: a moss specialist. I could know all there is to know about fifty species of quiet, small things. I would not disappear. I would be in plain sight, grow small, vibrant and velvety green, softspoken. And people would walk past me every day. To be lost in the view beneath a hand lens is not such a bad thing.