Friday, August 28, 2015

Grass


At first, it looks like your dead
And I want to say, forget it

Leave you in your own grave
Of dry brittleness

Parched
Prickly
Pathetic
Prematurely aged

I neglected you
I projected you

I let you go
I released my need for you to be a certain way

And I think, what if I paid more attention to you
What if I give you a little more care

Would you care to grow with me
Would it be possible for you to massage my feet with your softness again

Could I just remember to feed you with my liquid
To just water you with my essence

For just a few minutes
To quench your thirst

For just a small amount of effort
Perhaps I could remind you

To bring you back to the beauty that you already are:

Deeply rooted
Strong as crab grass
Persistent as the retriever running with the ball above you
Resilient as the worms tunneling beneath you

How nice it would be to cartwheel into you again
To feel the cool strength of you between my fingers and toes

To see the suppleness of your varying blades swaying in the wind
To see you alive in your rich saturation

Drinking in your sweet nectar with the rising sun
To smell you mingled in the morning’s precipitation

Come back to me 
Come back to me my lovely, lovely green grass

Written during the 2015 California drought





No comments:

Post a Comment