Gentle Green Grasp
The grass is everywhere,
Each blade welcomes the force of so many different creations;
Forceful footsteps, the raindrops, fresh morning dew,
The trees which implant their roots into the ground,
where grass willingly allows the tree to grow,
it avoids the tree, and just grazes around its stumps.
Weeds make their home among it,
but the grass does not complain,
the two coexist in perfect harmony, growing .
One blade, insignificant, unless you’re an ant. A baby ant. To a teeny-tiny ant, one blade of grass is a skyscraper.
To snakes, centipedes and worms, every edge is like a wave in a sea of green, as they swim and slither through the patches.
Grass accepts the trees’ falling leaves, the waste of animals, and the fact it is constantly cut.
Why does it take that?
The pieces do not complain, they just dance and sway to the winds melodic tune.
Would it like to keep growing?
Nothing tells a human to stop growing, trims them, or forces them to regrow.
The grass that lies in the vast grasslands of Africa must be the happiest.
It grows and dies naturally.
The heat and lack of precipitation are the enemies.
For when the seasons change, they realize that their end is near.
The grass is a patient peacemaker who brings joy as it tickles your bare, unpolished toes, provides comfort for the beings that lay and rest upon it.
But, it welcomes its end, just as it welcomes all things with each loving strand.
The grass is the welcoming native who does not segregate or judge and its arms and mine are always open.
Green is the color of envy, envy the grass. Its mellow green essence holds more acceptance of the world and change than any other being.
It was here before all, knows all, feels all, and sees all.
It cooly fills the space that is untouched and free.
