The Beauty Of Dry Grass – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: kapa65 at pixabay.com

“In nature death and decay are as necessary – are, one may almost say, as lively – as life; and so nothing is wasted.” Wendell Berry

The Beauty Of Dry Grass

The furthest bounds of the garden
are covered in pale, dry, crackling grass
and a confetti of redgum leaves that
crunch underfoot, the soil, hardly a 
soil, just dry sand rising as dust with 
each step, a place of no life all transformed 
in an instant of rain, gone the smell of 
dryness, now a cloy of musty, rich damp
smells, the sand now sticking to my shoes,
soaked grass darkening, collapsing to the 
ground, and as I pierce the earth and turn 
the soil, capturing all this beautiful dry life,
I rejoice in how nature gifts itself with life,
that every death is a becoming.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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