Yesterday I went out of the city
To where the nature lives.
Where silence still exists,
And dogs run free.

In this place full of foreign life.
Me; a mere stranger trying to fit in.
I lay myself in the unmown grass,
reaching till my chin.

Feelings of a mountain range.
Free, strong, wide, calm.
A courageous beetle scouting my slopes,
A fly landing in my palm.

There are so many places to wander to,
So many countries to undress.
But  I would always go back
To being a mountain range in the grass.