Upslope wind flutters the beige-grey grasses
Dancing hillside with their rising pink sun god.
Squirrels shuffle 'round the rocks
Maple trees whisper their leafy life song,
Clouds chalk party.
I watch
I listen
As my skin glows warm
Breathing the warm wind,
Connected in time and place to now.
Some never open their eyes to the simple things,
Trapped in their own narrative
Lost to the voice in their head
Chasing dreams that never come
Wanting ceaselessly
Missing what is…
Untethered to the joy of now.
And the grass sways merrily.
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