Poem: The Grass Is Alone (Oct. 13, 1999)
All my life, the silent grass
A patch by the road, a quarter-mile away
Rolling green, waving in the breeze
I thought it happy.
Grass grown from seeds,
From seeds from grass,
From stems and fibers ages past
There in that patch, forevermore.
A child, I was, and grass just that
It’s still there, and I am not
But I see it, in me, and want to roll in it
Be happy with it.
But the grass was alone
That patch an orphan
The fence its recent neighbor
Usurped by corn and beans
There by the road, a patch of grass
Gleaming in the sunshine,
My hint of forever past, until a hundred years ago
Grass owned that land.
The grass is alone, a little patch
By the side of the road, in a rural place
Not thought of for an instant
But I think of it
I know what the grass feels
And that I had no inkling
The breeze ruffled its hair
But its heart knows loss
The grass is alone.
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