Written by Natasha Anne
I feel the soil beneath my feet –
soft,
yielding,
warm.
And I walk,
whispering a lullaby
to the seeds that sleep soundly
in the dark, damp earth,
dreaming of reaching toward the sun
that anoints my skin with gold.
I press my palm to the ground —
the Earth breathes
against my fingertips.
The scent of mushrooms and rain
lingers in my nostrils
like a strange perfume –
comforting,
familiar.
Everything here feels
patient,
and kind.
I let the silence
fill me up.
I close my eyes.
Text © Natasha Anne
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