Please walk on the grass

Sometimes, when the day’s been long
and my shoulders are tight, I’ll take a step to the left
and walk on the soft grass or loamy floor.
I’ll pass over coggly stones and snappy twigs,
surprise dips and shifty inclines,
and sniff hay and fungus and leaf.

The ground, a cushion for my heart,
says tread on me please so I can love you back.