The dew-swept grass this morning was magnetic, and I can so understand the artist who lay spreadeagled, pinned to the ground, took the earth to heart, one with the earth as it moves, with the gritty feel of the soil, the warmth of the sun and the breeze that carried myriad birdsong, one with the grass as it inched towards the bright sky, with the rush of the sap through the tall tree that stood sentinel-still upholding a generous canopy.
Then I smiled and walked away.Ah, life.