#5: Walk Barefoot in Wet Grass

Close to my house is a large park to which I walked this morning. Immediately the field called, a large expanse of grass, the outfield of the baseball diamond or a soccer field or a place for playing frisbee with your dog. I left my sandals by the fence and ran barefoot out into the middle of the wet grass. The grass is soft and the dew cool. When I step the grass sweeps over the top of my feet, brushing them with moisture. My feet love the softness of the ground, the squishy wetness coating them. My eyes love the stalks of green with beads of clear, like little cattails, or beings with heads as orbs, seeing through all. Squish, the grass, the water loves my feet. Big clumps won't let go. The wet won't let go. I step circles just feeling, or not feeling at all. Let the earth love your skin, your tendons, let your flesh love the earth. Feel the soft, the squishy, the wet. There ain't nothing like dirt between your toes.