i feel it

lying in the grass

Cool crisp unmowed
Emerald green grass
Too sharp to tickle
Too soft to itch.

Waves of sound
Translate into sensual
Language.

Skin awash in
Gooseflesh
Tiny puckers reaching
Stretching searching for
Warmth, touch.

Eyes open wider
Seeking color, activity
A changed perspective.

The mind soothed
Of its savagery
If only for the momentary
Brief respite.