Just a little something I was inspired to write (admittedly, when I should have been doing my homework >.>)

Feedback is appreciated~

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A Walk Through the Grass

The wall of pine trees, the grassy lawn, the fading blue sky overhead, and the white wind: all appeared and welcomed me at the same time. They greeted me, embraced me, and flowed into my senses slowly: more slowly than the dark, wandering blue clouds that drifted overhead.

I felt the wind. It flared around my five-foot six-and-a-half frame; not violently, not gently, but as if I were a matter-of-fact feature of the field. It pulled at my jacket, blew through me, into me, around me – me and my naked ankles, shins, and soul; a soul that delighted in the choice of shorts for an early summer day and the glorious smell of air. Fresh, field air.

Seconds have passed since I entered this green zone, bordered by white soccer goals, lined by softball fences, surrounded by metal-chain links, and flew away. I look down at my shadow, down at the patches of green, at the white dandy-lions, their manes ruffling in the wind (and don’t they look like apple trees?) and blow on by. My presence sends them running about, bowing down before me, the King, multiplying and marking the realm the still stretches before me.

The wind continues to swirl, tug, rake through my hair and tickle my nose. I rub at it fiercely.

I still see civilization: the batting cages, the stadium, the yellow goalposts, and the grey, metal, chain-link fence that always parallels my course; so why do I feel free? Is it the trees the reach their prickly boughs towards me, straining with every wave of wind to shake my hand? Is it the pale blue ceiling, tinged with that small, carelessly thrown blob of pink, held up with its pillars of white fluff? Or is it simply that feeling of looking down, seeing that I am taller than the young, yellow dandelions?

I want to stop. I’ve walked and walked, enjoyed the beauteous sight of this site, and I don’t want it to end. I’m almost there: the blue barrel, container of waste – marks the path home. I want to flop down, lie on this bed of living foliage, and draw in with every pore of my body the continuously growing, constantly changing greenhouse of life.

I know I should. I try to fight them, both of them: the urge to go on and the urge to stay. One side has to win. I turn and look behind me: no eyes but those of the cars in the parking lot. I look to my right: no bodies but those of the football tackling dummies.

“…”

I flop down, throw off my worn blue backpack and sink into the sea of green, float on its waves, and stare up at the sky that blankets my mind. The dandelion clocks count off the passing seconds, wishing me to stay as they float off into the air, propellers spinning slowly into space.

I’m stretched out like a snow angel in spring. I’m released, taking off, flying with my wings of words yet unformed. I think of everything and nothing, infinity over fifteen, sixteen, seventeen seconds. My hair bends in tandem with the hands of the grass. My hands feel their waving. We shake, diplomats from two different worlds, and I close my eyes.

I imagine the Wind swishing by in her long silvery gown, gracefully alighting beside me. Her gown brushes my body; her footsteps whisper of change.

“What a cruel mistress. I’ve only tasted twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four seconds of tranquility – surely you can spare another few.”

But, alas, no: she kisses my small nose with affection and hints at our future meetings.

I twitch.

Irritation’s small pinpricks course through me, looking for release. The unwelcome visitor climbs up my nose. I rub at it with my finger, trying to wipe it away, trying to make it leave me alone. It’s no use.

I sneeze.

And it’s all gone – the ‘lions have settled down to sleep, the wishies have danced to the skies, and I’m lying on a bed of blades sharper than any sword. I sigh and brush myself off.

As I walk towards the gravel introduction to cement, my bag seems lighter, if only slightly, and my step more sure, if only with a bit more vigor. Rocks crunch under my feet, as I walk down the path to civilization. I swing open the gate to its apex of one-and-a-half feet, squeeze through the narrow portal, and return to the dream.