Grass.
the forgotten blades shift with the wind
wisping and grimacing
though wise and old
It stays shy and cold
it has met the sole of all weary travelers
and the backs of starry-night on-lookers
yet not the caring hands of seasoned gardeners
silent it stays
around the garden it lays
ready to assume it's fresh color green
as it has in countless past Mays
grass stays the same
through all days and days.
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