Grass (Quartorzain) Poem by jackilton peachum

Along the lawn I lie, my ease at noon,
the sun warm on my back, else in the lull of evening,
'tween tabletalk of worm and beetle
comes the keening of molespeech,
old groundhogs chuckling deep underground.
And always, I hide a thousand sins--
odor of decay, dead bird or animal,
lost coins, a ring, a spoon, a shard of glass,
the keys to someone's house-- dropped long ago,
the bastard child buried near the climbing rose.
In autumn, I will pull the leaves up over me,
and dream of crocus in winter snow,
human voces in the distance,
roots traveling under my feet.