winter grass monologue

the winter grass in my backyard
is an exhausted kind of yellow
and tall as tress, you know
growing by bits and chunks
leaps between freezes and
pulling back into the sunlight
where every color unfolds

in the right kind of light
on just the right day
you can see the green
hiding just below the surface
see it trying to come on out
waiting on the weather
and one day soon,
it'll be bounding out
crying to the skies
"we shall be counted,"
and your certain
schoppenhauer'd be proud

remnants of pan
the god of all that is
the original abraxas
lets stretch a gentle wisp:
"these are all the ways
of long gone beasts and
kindness left to the winds
and seas"

and i here, breathless
hours pass just letting
the way unleash itself
on all the days that come.

maybe in some certain
world there'll always be
the chain of these
over-eager days, and
we'll just laugh into the moon
and settle down to smile.

2008-02-28 | 2:07 p.m.
0 comments so far