Eulogy (On Grass) Poem by Michael Ardizzone

As I look at this blade of grass, I notice that
Oh, the sky and winds change a face too little
for this blade of grass to stand up straight
or to bend-to kiss a brother, a sister
to entwine with a lover.

When we take the first step down the path
all the decisions weigh heavy on dully colored lips
the endeavors of each motion
are burdened with the categories of ideal.

But the sky burns at sunset
as do lover's cheeks at the sight of another.
The sky is bluer than a million brilliant thoughts
and deeper than the eternal abysses of hell.

And we contain ourselves with watching
two blades of grass, three, five,
stand in a million, simply waiting for autumn

(they wait with a passion
and try so hard to become one another
but in the end are dumbstruck
at their singleness)

and then waiting, again,
(they wait with a solemnity,
a cold passivity not unlike stone or a frozen lake.
as they crumble whole
the snow briefly coats the world in purity)
for spring.