Bare feet on the soft grass.
Ears soothed by symphonic crickets.
I am standing here, cool green grass under foot, with a sharp eye looking back and staring forward simultaneously.
Maybe it is time to try.
I have things for you.
I have a cup of coffee waiting for you when you wake up and french toast.
Darkness called, not in a quiet voice, but screaming.
My bare feet are cold and the squishy ground rises up between my toes.
If nowhere were an actual place