Where Does The Grass Go?
When the seasons change and the earth loses its moisture.
The grass hasn’t much choice but to die without raising its voice.
How does it accept change so silently? How does it let go so easily?
Does it know if nothing comes next? Does it know?
Maybe it doesn’t care. Maybe it can’t think so far ahead. Maybe each blade is so interconnected with the world that it lives even when it dies.
I’m not sure.
All I know is this crispy brown grass is tickling my feet. And it’s lunchtime now, I best go eat.
Big thoughts and big questions sometimes never get answered.
But that’s ok.
There is no life without wonder.