It's a miracle!

It’s a miracle!

I walk on water,
traipse across a green tide,
high and rushing in. Or else

it’s procrastination,
a farm path
I haven’t mowed,

but I am busy,
floating the names of wildflowers
into the wind—

little sails,
whispered rafts
in this everywhere ocean. 

The Prompt

For so many of us lucky enough to have yards, it is the season of mowing . . . and mowing again. I dream of one day surrounding myself with trees and clover and wildflowers, letting it all grow into whatever it wants to be, but I’m a renter, not a homeowner, so I try to content myself with creating new pockets of trees and perennials within the acres of grass that surround me. And admittedly, there are things I love about grass—the way it ripples in the breeze, the feeling of it beneath my bare feet, the smell of it, freshly cut.

If you would like a prompt to play with today—and any of the prompts I offer here could be journaling prompts or visual arts prompts if poems aren’t your thing (yet)—then I invite you to consider grass. Go touch some grass! (I mean that literally.) Pluck a blade and peel it apart into thin ribbons. Smell it. Listen to the sound it makes beneath your feet or when stirred by the wind.

Imagine that every single experience you’ve ever had of grass—running through it as a child, pushing a mower for the first time, picnicking in the park—is stored within a single, green blade, and all of these blades of grass together make a meadow. How wide would that meadow be, I wonder? Walk through this field of memories. Pluck a blade or two or three. Sit with them. Sit with the sensations, emotions, and stories they offer up. Let a poem shake loose. And if you’re up for it, share it here in the comments thread! I always love reading your poems and reflections.