and I am a child
of the earth
my palms, forever
painted with the
kiss of clay, soft
as the sun-drenched wind
laced golden in my
hair.

and the flowers grow
gently,
between my toes &
tucked behind my ears
through tender,
green afternoons
at the mercy of the
old Oak by the meadow.

and here
in the effortless
blue shade
if I am quiet enough
the meadow folk
go about their
business
rustling the greenest
grass (that makes my
ankles itch)
with care.

and sometimes
if I am quieter still
the soft thuds of
my deep red heart
cease to
whisper
and the earth
wraps her sunny arms around
me

and we can sit,
basking in pleasantries &
sharing with each other the
young secrets of the world,

forever.