A Walk in the Grass

Today’s draft was inspired by a sunny tropical day, and taking a break to touch the grass with bare feet.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedYou told me your mother used to scold youwhen you stepped outside, barefoot, onto the cold Autumn grass. I remember this as I watch you walk into the Molokai sunshine,barefoot onto the sun-warmed grass.The trade winds catch the tail of your shirt,lift it lightly away from your bodyas you bend forward to touch the ground. Your mother worried that the cold in the earth would catch you,sink into your body-- that she would lose her most precious, precious thing. Beloved, this I know,as I watch your shine meet the sun's shine,your warmth sink into the warmth of the soil -- you are no thing,you are of the earth and belong only to her.When you place your feet on the ground and breathe,you make a cyclone of offering and acceptingwhirling you gently into your own heart's core.