The Quiet Green

Here it is, clean and blog-ready:
The Quiet Green
Barefoot again,
and translated back
to when I was smaller—
smaller in size
and smaller in worries.

The world was lighter,
moments unfolding before me,
and I without a clue
what a treasure those times were then.

Soaking it in now
as if my soul was starving
to find this moment once more.
The grass is softer here,
or maybe I’ve forgotten
how to feel it.

It slips between my toes
like it used to—
cool, forgiving,
familiar in a way nothing else is.
Smells of honeysuckle in the air,
with hints of dew still on the morning green,
clinging gently to each step
like the day has just begun for me.

I don’t rush across it.
I wander.
Step, pause… step again,
like there is nowhere I need to be.

The world was smaller then,
and lighter—
my youth making me oblivious of pressures…
I long for that again.
I press my feet down deeper,
as if I might step back into it—
those days
where joy didn’t have to be found,
only noticed.

Standing there in the quiet green,
I am not just remembering—
I am there.