I remember dancing over the cool grass.
Spinning through fragrant sheets,
clothesline pinned and warming in the glow of the sunshine.
The sky an impossible blue,
pierced by a sun holding nothing but possibility.
The air thick with mid-morning dew and the sweetness of flowers.
And there was time.
To lay and wonder at the heavens.
To feel the earth and bask in its embrace.
I’m older now.
The grass begs for rain.
The sun, my old companion, frightens me. Beckoning fire and smoke.
There are days, weeks maybe, when I don’t hear the birds singing.
Forget to smell the trees.
Blinded with worry.
My once simple connection to nature now tangled.
I hear their small feet on the trail
running through the trees, and I’m transported.
Their laughter pulls me back. To my own youth.
I can smell the pine basking in the sun again.
Feel the give of the forest floor beneath my feet.
Hear a raven’s croak echo in the treetops.
I awaken as an animal in nature.
As I walk under the canopy holding soft, tiny hands my senses are bathed in beauty.
And there is no space left for worry.