Why Do You Love Your Ground?

Song of the Post: Moonshadow - Cat Stevens

This place I'm standing in. It's home.
It feels like the morning after something terrible has happened. But it's mine, and it's soft.

I love my ground because when I'm standing I can see everything. I can see down and look at all the funny lives that are being lived on little grounds surrounded by fences and guard dogs.

I have a patch of my earth that has white christmas lights strung up around on wooden logs and polaroid pictures in the dirt.

My feet are calloused, but that's just because I've tried other people's grounds.
My ground is soft and comfortable. Yours is rough in places. I guess that's what makes it yours.

I love my ground because I have room. Not to much room though, just enough to let my mind expand and warp and bulge.
I love my ground because it's not fenced in. Not because I can leave but because it kind of proves to myself that I am staying for me.

I love my ground because the dirt is brown and the dirt clods are wet and rich. The kind of dirt that you plant beauty in with the little white things. There is even green moist moss everywhere and it loves when my feet are comfortable.
I love my ground because even though I don't accept them sometimes, I have plenty of nutrients. I can run my toes through it.

I love my ground because I've planted things and some are growing.
Some plants aren't thriving, but it's okay and that's why I love it here.

Sometimes the wind blows, dries up my soil, blows it into my eyes. Sometimes I get scratches under my eyes from looking at the roses for too long.

I love my ground because I have dirt in my hair and dirt in my fingernails. I love my ground because it's home.
I love my ground because my veins pulse downward.
I love my ground because when I lay on the soil, and look up. I see the universe.

I love my Ground because it's mine.

Love, Alex