I want to sit in a field

I want to sit in a field and breathe.

I want to sit in a field and taste

water so refreshing after being outside for so long,

and that naturey-flavor that only comes with being outdoors on a late-summer day.

I want to sit in a field and smell

fresh air and rushing water,

rich wheat and yarrow,

deer and squirrels and all the critters,

the pine sap and last year’s oak leaves.

I want to sit in a field and hear

bristling leaves and grass and things that touch,

cute chirping bugs and lovely songbirds and grunting wildlife big and small,

a plane ahead its sound,

the whistling wind,

periodic breaking of twigs under foot animals close or far,

a sigh of Earth as water runs and life breathes and all things gently sway.

I want to sit in a field and watch

every tiny movement of the every thing,

things flying overhead and at the ground,

shadows jittering or pulsing or unmoving,

things alive and dead and changing,

the trunks of trees flexing in the wind,

leaves and stalks and blooms harmoniously dancing every which way,

distant cars gradually traversing a highway some miles away,

the pool of wispy clouds in succulent blue sky for which the blinding star swims.

I want to sit in a field and feel

the wind as it twirls the tips of my hair on my head and my face and my arms and urges me to press on and in,

the bask-able heat of that star around which we plan our work and rest,

the occasional bug as its legs and incomprehensibly small form finds a cozy moment on my skin,

the sharp grass and soft clover and squishy moss intimately yet quietly cuddling me via the negative space between my fingers,

the soft dirt beneath my hands, just barely grabbing to the underside of my fingernails but clearly staining the skin of my palms and any piece of clothing I touch 

(especially my cheap white t-shirt of which I have many copies so that I don’t have to worry about ruining this one),

all those good wonderful things that everyone else seems to feel,

peace and hope and love,

alive.

I just want to sit in a field together and hold your hand.

I want to share this moment with you.