Stand me still in swaying grass
on the crest of a smooth esker.
Numb my ears to synthetic noise
so I can embrace the earthly chorus;
Green blades clashing swordlike.
The creak of trees, rooted in the battle.
The flip and twist of a passing bluebottle;
Awkward and disorientated.
Let me breathe deep the same wind
that lends herself to these instruments.
Let me hear the crackle of sun on skin;
The sound of hair electrified,
The thud of chemicals leaping across synapses.

Let me feel truly alive.