grasses
Grasses
growing anyhow -
Rough, tough tufts along the edges
and on windy skyline ridges.
Brown and fine and loose and long,
neglected by the levelling noise,
forcing its life into long-forgotten corners.
I too have a right.
Unsown, unwanted, in neglect,
it yet exists.
Its beauty burns the heart and eyes,
a challenge of a simpler kind,
not seen or heard by trained, taught minds.
I also have a right,
my life is of a simpler kind;
not tended and not recognised
beside this level, cultured desert.
(© 1996-2008 Maria L. Grist)
back
the other space
| the white feather | poems | lomography | lighthouse | web
design | links
| contact