Touching the Ground

Bare feet touch soil, cool like a sigh,

the earth beats softly, whispering why.

Underneath layers, roots stretch and twist,

a language of feeling that cannot be missed.

The garden awakens, fresh and alive,

a pulse from the ground, a reason to strive.

In this patch of dirt, life teems unseen,

ancient connections, a place to convene.

Fingers trace contours, the texture of fate,

shifting with secrets, life’s tender weight.

I kneel in the stillness, where warmth meets the chill,

a moment suspended, a breath at will.