Green Movement

I look back, my steps having marred the time-packed earth behind me;

I slip foot from shoe, foot from shoe and pad along silently.

Glancing backwardly once again, I see them: heel, pad, toe prints.

I gaze at the grass, growing silently, reaching toward the sun,

to disturb even one tiny green blade, I am not worthy.

But the stream runs along beside, rocks flattened invitingly.

The sap of the earth flows coolly over tiptoe, under arch;

squashy underfoot, the roan mud is a thick and gracious host.

The minnows glide past, apathetic toward any intruder.

Leaping from stone to stone, my feet splish with each tender landing.

Here, paranoia flees, sun warms, frowns fade. Yes, nature endures.