Grass grows.
It gets trampled into the dirt
until it is dirt.
It disintegrates and decomposes and falls
apart,
into the soil.
The worms eat it.
But it comes back.
It will rain again,
the sun will rise again,
the grass will grow back,
if it ever really left.
Posted in response to the challenge Hope & Resilience.
There are vintage looking posters in the windows
And they’re probably not old
But I’d almost believe you
If you said they were.
They’re next to organic candles
From the raspberry farm down the road.
The tides still ebb
The sun still rises
The trees still grow
My curls are longer now.
We have a new president new governors
Different colors speckling made up maps
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