I am not a grid.

I am not a grid.

I am an old dirt road, overgrown,

And the bicycle hurtling down it.

I am the sun-kissed grass that I am lying in

And the earth, round and whole,

Holding me up.

I am a stream, rushing and singing,

Reaching always for the deep blue sea.

I am the stars: twinkling fire storms in the night.

I am a marshmallow, a cup of tea,

An insect and a big bumbling bear.

I am not a grid.

I am a human being.

A wild hair.