Walking Barefoot After A Rainstorm

I walked in the field, barefoot, after a rainstorm.

The grass was wet and sticky. The birds were singing and hunting for worms. Small, cold puddles of water lay on the ground under my feet. There was mud everywhere. Grass caressed my toes while rocks tickled them.

I smelled the air, breathing the damp and foggy aroma. I rested my legs in a fresh, peaceful water puddle. I could hear the water dripping from trees and making gulping sounds when falling in the pond. I dropped my back in the wet grass, looking at the sky. Birds were cheerfully singing as they washed themselves after a fresh bath.

I got up to walk home, whistling a tune that was in my head. I picked up, on the road, a blue flower. Its smell was a natural healing scent. The dirt of the earth was getting warmer and harder as the sun kept peaking through the clouds.

I took in a last look, a last smell, a last peaceful moment. Summer was here. I felt like dancing.

(c) Marc Noël 2016