Birth Of A Blade Of Grass

Vintage Words


I will not move. I will not go. I
came to bring green to the landscaped.
I sing to the blades of retirees who
can not wait to exercise behind
lawnmowers coming for me.


Move out of my way, grub. My seed

was built to withstand such munching.

Whatever it is, it comes in a bag

and kills so I can survive.

I am grass. Green is my signature.







Author's Notes/Comments: 

Tenacious grass over which weeds and insects shall have no dominion. :D HAPPY SPRING!

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