Walk Barefoot

Lately, happiness has become something to analyse and chase. We approach it with furrowed brows, as if joy were an academic degree to be earned.

But walking barefoot among roots and damp earth, I feel how little I need.

Damp leaves cling to the soles of my feet. Mud presses between my toes. Wind against my skin.

For a moment, the noise inside me quiets.

I return to myself.

To my roots.