A Breath of Fresh Meadow

A tiny rustle started in my chest. My bare toes felt the cool prickle of damp earth, steady and solid underneath. Well now... heh. I took a slow breath and carefully tested my fingers, feeling the coarse weave of my woven basket handle. Right nearby, a slender wild stem swayed gently in the breeze. I reached out with a steady hand and touched the fine, dried white blossoms, feeling their papery texture crumble ever so softly beneath my touch. Yes. Alive, right here in the tall grass.