I breathe in the mossy smell of trees and cut grass,
All around me
And beneath me where i sit
Listening to the hum of bees
And language of jays.
The branches of small trees create an oasis
As I lay
On a blanket of grass
And catch glimpses of deep blue
My palms open,
Arms outstretched as a Caterpillar
Crawls along the pale part of my arm that the sun hasn’t seen.
So alive in moments like these,
Listening to the quiet beating of my pulse under my skin
As a stream gurgles near by
And i am me
In this sheltered place
And this place becomes me.
By J. Hamilton