100 words (more or less), writing

Looking Up

The ground beneath my back, comforting as a hug. Maybe a little lumpy and fraught with the potential for creepy crawlies, but still—the earth is an anchor as I sprawl in the grass and look up into the dizzying blue sky. 

I’m a child again imagining myself climbing the tall storm-tower clouds. Or I’m grown and huddled up with my friends on a chilly summer night. Together we search for the brief, bright streamers of falling stars while coyotes yip and loons call over the distant water. 

It’s a solace to fold myself down, be small, and bask in immensity.