In a Field

In a field,
The boy runs his fingertips
Along the tops
Of the long green grass blades,
Running in giant circles
To stir up the grasshoppers
Until they all rest upon his shirt.
He slips to the ground
Beneath the bright summer day
And lets the grasshoppers tickle his young skin
As they slowly return to the grass
And he rises, runs, falls again
Laughing, laughing
again and again.





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