An Aside

Grass, it’s just grass,

I told myself

as I stopped

at the intersection

aside glancing

while waiting to pass through;

roadside grass,

fresh and soft,

sun-tipped,

fingers of the breeze

playing it

like strings on a harp

plucky

in arpeggios

running along with shadows,

disappearing into prickly patches

and secrets

(of being

just grass)

that I keep

as if

I know what they are.

 

 

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

 

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