The spongy velvet of moss,
that cool carpet beneath the trees.
that cool carpet beneath the trees.
The tickle of the grass
drawn between my toes
with every step.
The bracing slam
of foaming sea.
The grit of sand
that lingers all day
until it covers
the sheets on my bed.
Dancing around the bumblebees
while they harvest the blooming clover.
The vibrant heat
of sun-baked soil.
The living energy
of fresh-tilled earth.
The splash of fresh puddles
and the joyous squish
of mud between my toes.
All these enjoyments end
when the fall leaves crunch
beneath booted feet
and frosty grass crackles
with every step.
I’ve grown too old
to skip through the snow
in bare feet.
Since before she can remember, R. Jean Bell has devoured any available reading material. In recent years, books--averaging one a day--have proven the most effective relief from chronic pain. She firmly believes shoes are torture devices, so she trained her border collie to remove them. Connect with her at rjeanbell.com.
Latest posts by R. Jean Bell (see all)
- THE TRAVESTY OF AUTUMN - 21st November 2022