Some Days

That’s how it is.

Some days there is nothing to do but lay in the grass and stare at the sky. Some days are like that. You rest there all sprawled out like you’re about to make a snow angel but there’s no snow, only tall, unflinching grass under you. As you position yourself just right, the grass scratches your skin, makes you itch, but it feels soft and you think you’re laying on pillows.