|"The Good Grass", oil, by Justin Clements|
When sorrows sit on his shoulders,
he sometimes walks on grassinstead of sidewalks, setting his feet
on the promising green surface
for solace and reassurance.
He realizes again that goodness
grows around and under him,
and that sorrow is not the master
of kindness, but its servant.
He knows that nothing heals
like letting his fussing self
flow away and vanish,
and the goodness of green grass
does that for him,
helps him hold his sorrows
like flakes of paper
that fly off in the softest breeze.