When I Touch the Earth

a poem on being alive

Alive when I lay on a worn blanket amid the overgrown clovers,
	shoulder to shoulder with my children, 
	watching the puffy clouds swoosh across the sky.

Alive when our feet carry us miles over rocks and roots 
	through the mountains as giggles, snack wrappers, and 
	going on a bear hunt echo across the valley.

Alive when we pitch a tent for the weekend,
	corralling kids up the mountain, around the bonfire, into bed,
	barely sleeping on a thin mattress, yet waking to the sound of birds.

Alive when I’m kneeling in the dirt next to my son
	lifting up rocks in the sacred search for bugs.
	Look mom! He cradles a snail in his hands.

Alive when I slip on my gardening gloves
	ready to battle weeds or plant seeds,
	color and life spreading like the sunrise over my yard.

Alive when I step onto our deck in the early morning, coffee in hand,
	to gaze at the stars and my daughter sneaks out beside me:
	Mom, is that a planet? Wheres’s Orion? I see the big dipper!

Alive when I clip fresh herbs, spicy oregano and earthy rosemary,
	and toss them into the soup. Or better yet, a little mint 
	for my mojitos: taste and see that the Lord is good!

Alive when I stand in the shade of our eucalyptus tree
	on a warm summer evening after the children are tucked in bed
	picking blueberries and basking in the quiet.

Alive when we squish our toes into the mossy patch beneath the oaks 
	and my children set up shop on the big rock:
	Mom, do you want to buy acorns, berries, or salad?

Alive when I bend low and lean in, camera in hand,
	to behold the preying mantis, the spotted red purple butterfly,
	the fuzzy caterpillar, and the outstretched dragonfly.

Alive when the orange butterfly alights on my zinnias,
	a fellow pilgrim in this world- me journeying toward eternity,
	her toward the warm south for the winter.

Alive when our canoe slides into the water
	carrying the weight of our existence past the old trees
	who have seen centuries of love and laughter.

Alive when we bike down the curving greenway,
	wind and joy pulsing with each push of the pedal,
	child-like glee rising from our bones.

Alive when I push her on the swing, over and over,
	screeches of delight spilling from her lips:
	Higher mama! Go higher!

Alive when the cool blue lake envelopes me
	and I venture deeper where my feet cannot touch
	buoyed by glittering water and faith.
	
Alive when the air in my lungs meets the air outside,
	when my hands meet the dirt,
	when my knees meet the ground.

Alive when I touch the earth-
	for there, 
		Heaven touches me.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Alive."