And I, caught against the cool, wet grass, Slowly lean back into the arms of the earth, Feeling its pulse beat warm beneath, Fingers spread wide to seize the sky, Clouds drift overhead, slow and lazy, With shadows that paint me everywhere. The sun tickles the nape of my neck, Brushing fingertips lightly, While I listen— To the soft sigh of leaves, To the rustle of the wind’s laughter, And catch the melody of all things growing. This is where life unfolds, Where nature’s rhythm sings above, And I become one with the song, A dance in the expanse of being.

• Anne Sexton