Of the Earth

I am made of mud, 

brown flakes dried to my boots,

sand clinging to my toes,

dirt tracks left behind wherever I go.

I am made of the sun,

a burn turned to dark lines on my feet,

freckles on my nose,

fresh golden streaks in my hair.

I am made of trees, water and rocks,

a scratch on my arm from the juniper, 

a bruise on my shoulder from a sip at the creek,

scrapes on my knee from a collision with the mesa. 

I am made of the sky, 

eyes bright from long nights spent under the moon,

cheeks aglow from wishing upon stars,

smile full from hours spent dancing with the northern lights.

I am made of the earth,

a sigh for every walk spent with a deer, 

a secret for every whisper shared with the ocean, 

and a heart full from days spent picking flowers in meadows,

nibbling on berries, wandering mountain ridges, 

chasing rainbows, and, simply, just being.