Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Rachael Welch

meadow

I am a meadowlark,
Wandering through the thick oak forest
Longing for clearings in the dense brush, so I can
Embrace the miniature grasses again.
Tickle my naked feet and shock me sideways!” I exclaim.
One leap,
Gone.
I am immersed in an infinite field of creamy sagebrush,
Flicking away the crickets and praying bugs from my kneecaps.
I surrender to the ground,
And let my back ease itself into the dampness of dew.
The stars are bright and ominous,
Speaking of worlds far away and places unseen.
I listen,
I hear,
Vastness.
I feel,
It all.

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