Touching the earth

Running barefoot 
in grass damp with dew.

It’s the simplicity of it.
Touching the earth.
Feeling the cool, soft dirt,
the fragile blades of grass,
Smelling the aroma of spring
and hearing the blue birds
in their morning song.

How could I have waited so long
to do this simple thing again?
And how could I shackle myself 
to the foolish thought
that this was not important, 
not worthy of my attention?    How could I?

Because the sensations
of walking barefoot in the wet grass
unleash that playful spirit, 
that part of my soul that longs to be free.

I have unshackled my Soul
simply by 
removing those shoes
and touching 
the earth.

Deborah L. Tisch

In The Picture

5 Replies to “Touching the earth”

  1. Such a simple act; such a simple image – and yet you have captured that childish sense of playful freedom in your lovely poem and accompanying photo.

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