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barefoot

Yesterday I walked barefoot across the grass.


The end? Or…


Yesterday I walked barefoot across the grass. This would not be a big deal in June...but in April in the mountains? It’s everything. Half green, half brown, partially alive, mostly coming back to life, 100% begging to be sprawled out across and stretched over. I accepted the invitation and claimed a spot with the most sun. Back towards the earth, face towards the sky, I carved out my space. 


It tickled my feet, wiggled against my fingers. I inhaled, deep, and for a moment it was summer. Isn’t it funny how a sweet and simple scent can transport you back to all the summers you’ve ever had? I extended out through every limb, as far as they could possibly reach to greedily collect more sun, winter soul growing right along with the new grass.


The wind blew, the clouds shifted and shaped across the sky, selfishly stealing my warmth. I stood and brushed the grass from my back and walked inside, bare feet on warm earth.  A few stray pieces tangled in my hair, souvenirs of the day in April I walked barefoot across the grass.


Every experience needs to be experienced. 



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