Wet blades, dry mind

Cool wet blades, a shock to the sole.

Rain-heavy, dark, a sudden green.

My toes curl, finding a small hole

where earth was softer, less keen.

A dandelion, cold and slick,

stuck to my arch, a yellow star.

But all I heard was the phone's quick click,

and the words he used, how sharp they are.

The dampness seeped, a soothing chill.

My mind, it dried, turned hard and thin.

This quiet grass, it could not fill

the silence where the fear crept in.