Poetry

If I Were a Blade of Grass

I would stretch toward the sun
taking full advantage, roots soaking

moisture from the soil of generations,
crisp green shaft shooting

upward with abandon,
through glint of morning light,

dappled frost-like
sugar-coating,

and though undistinguished,
lost in a sea of green,

countless flags waving
in the new spring breeze,

I would know who I am
and who I’m meant to be.

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