they say, soothes the hurts.
you thought the life of a blade of grass? O, the rose
…it gets lots or attention.
of the lawnmower blade that cuts the blade?
it to breathe, it would merely sigh at the question.
do you feel when you’re seen for who you are?
mind that we’re visible; are we seen?
yes, we must ask, are we seeable?
I’m leaning sunward slightly,
just doing my job, one of a
million billion blades of grass,
maybe more, in the backyard
of this family. I’m not standing
tall as I was yesterday because the
dad mowed the lawn, as he put it,
and lopped off my top. This afternoon,
though, the young boy in the house is
stretched out on his stomach on us,
looking at our numbers intently. He’s
gliding his palm softly over our chopped
tops. Oh, now he’s pushed back a clump
of us and seems to be taking a special
interest in me. He grabs me between his
thumb and forefinger and yanks me out from my
root. He places my
white base into his mouth,
sucks on it, rolls it
around his tongue; tastes
something sweet about
me. He rolls over
on his back, closes his
basks in the warm sun, and keeps my company.
Then his mother calls
him in. He stands,
lifts me out of his
mouth, flips me to the
ground, and then goes
in. In a couple of
days I’ll be dried and withered and
go my way. No matter. I’ve done my job. I ask, not idly,
would you like to know
my supreme joy, having
reached my full stature,
and stood proudly in
many suns? Merely this: Having been seen—
really seen—by this
© 2012 Allan Cox, Allan Cox & Associates Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Labels: Blade, Visions in the Backyard, week-12