Run across the meadow
barefooted on a summer day.
Feel every straw and tuft
and beneath the dark green shelter
of the oak - the dry hard soil.
Sprinkled with dew, the grass
where the sun not yet has reached
moistening your ankles, cooling,
though you're running fast.
Sit bare-legged on the pine tree branch.
Be it for a while.
Warm from the sun,
rugged, yet soft on the surface.
Dig your toes deep into the moss,
the green wet moss by the tarn
when your wellies was letting in water
when you played as a child.
Feel it. Be it.