The first touch
of wet grass on your toes
flows up like an icicle
and the breeze wraps around you
like a comforting lover.

The sun has a green crown
and the hill scented air
smells like that moment
when you were five 
and your eyes went wide and bright

The ground is so soft
each step lets you bounce 
as birds circle you
if you reach out to them
they may pull you up to the sky

The trees are solemn
and older than cities
gnarled with wood-trapped time.
Leaves cup your sounds instead of rain
they uncurl to return your echoes.

There are no miracles here
it has always been.