The imminent line of grass marks the boundary between the safe and knowable parts of the playing field and beyond it adventure and escape. The teachers and dinner time supervisors stand in line, like generals on the ridge line, watching for any infraction. We are not supposed to go into the long grass but in meadow I can for a moment escape and be safe. I venture in, crawling on my belly. Small spiders scurry ahead of me, a beetle fumbles over the bent pasture and around me the tall fronds murmur and whine with the mechanical precision of tiny beating wings. I lie there, carelessly curled up, knees drawn to my chest, head laying on the warm ground. The sun smiles down on me, kissing my cheek. The clamorous haste of the playground seem very far away and I am falling into a deep well of peace, boughed by the buttercups and golden hued prairie.
