The grass is wet.
A forest home for ants and spiders scurrying between long wet blades.
Look! A butterfly lands on my shoulder, ever so lightly.
The pigeon calls on repeat from the first light until the sun slips into the antipodean sky.
Vapour trails slice the blue into diamonds and darts, piercing through the space above.
I am sending a message to you : each naked foot is sure on this ground.
The ants cluster on my toe. I am a mountain to conquer.
Here come the flies..
They own my legs but my thighs are for you.
Photo © Jeni McMillan