the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
~
the green
of today
gives the lie
to dark thoughts
it is me . . .
it is
we
who are so
affected
by these times
the grass
continues to sing
under a warm
summer sunlight
in the morning
when I look
upon it
unsuspectedly
I am caught up
in the verdant colour
and vibrant life
of the thing
something
lives
and it lives
regardless
of me of we
the sun
is gorgeously warm –
not yet
hot –
and I close my eyes
raise my face
into it
let these rays
strike hope
into the heart
of we
~
The summer sun and grass will do that (thankfully).
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A lovely morning here, Liz. A day in-between storms.
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The grass actually is singing here! The cicadas are in full voice today.
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They’re fantastic, aren’t they? Loud, though.
I’m not hearing them over here – not yet, at least.
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Just so long as they stay outside! One got into the kitchen last summer and it was deafening at night. Couldn’t find it, but fortunately it left of its own accord after 2 weary days and nights.🤪
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Unimaginable horror, Chris. Hope you don’t have to go through that again – ever.
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It sounds idyllic Frank. Gorgeous words
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