– to Walt
Grass, O little blade of grass
How is it that you sit so still
Through summer’s heat,
Through winter’s fury?
To I, it is quite a feat
That you are never in a hurry.
Often I have wondered
How you came to be – right there.
Often I have wondered
Why it is you are anywhere,
So silent do you pass through life.
I don’t need to know
The categorical imperative
Nor understand completely
The holy trinity.
I need not know the reason why
It all began
Nor how come with firy splash
It will end.
I only long to know
Of your sweet solitude,
You little blade of grass.
Then,
Contented I will be
To sleep with questions
In this house of broken glass.
