Dear Earth, I’m leaning in.

I’m resting my foot against a warm snoring dog underneath my desk.

I’m resting my eyes on the grey stone Buddha on my windowsill, as he exudes his usual tranquillity.

I’m resting my tired heart on your battered breast, darling Earth, as you absorb whatever we hurl at you.

After I rest a while, I might top up the pond for the tadpoles. I might walk through your woods, praising them. I might paint a placard or do my computer busy-work or read about caves or put on a load of washing.

For now, my spirit needs to lie on its back under leaves with the sun soaking through. It needs to float in a cool pool adorned with water-lilies. It needs to curl up under your desk like Ralph the dog, and snore.

*

Gratitude for the photo by Nika Akin on Unsplash