I sit on my backyard swing
rocking lightly in the breeze
staring at the ground fresh from a rain
each blade of grass staring back at me
wet glistening blindingly bright
as the sun reemerges
throwing everything into suddenly sharp resolution
I realize I am seeing my lawn for perhaps
the first time
brave enough to rise after the long dead winter
growing reaching heavenward limitless
confident that it will live among the stars
high in the sky
prompted by the elements
gaining momentum striving forward
only to be made a mockery
cut back through our desire to maintain
cleanliness order control
and I weep for the lawn.

© Crystal S. McDonald.