The late August Grass (a poem)

Trees were here

The low scrubs too

bamboo and kudzu filled the ground

where never grass was found

the ages claimed the years obscured

the land hidden in the dirty woods

the birds still fly and the crows still roost

in the trees that grew too tall

around us

but the dirt and discarded

trash of the past are gone

replaced by new growth and sun

the cobwebs have been swept away

to make room for the new

nothing remains as it once was on that hillside

and that will change too

with the fist appearance of summer’s dew

but as it stands




will all change

but for now

I will revel in the feel

of the late august grass




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