Sun shining
with-holding the wind.
Aftermath of last night's storm
still present.
Scooter's collapsed.
Nature's standing still.
Others respecting
the natural beauty.
Construction and music don't distract.
Clouds creeping over the hills.
A brighter beam
now hits my face.
The forecast was wrong:
no high winds this hour.
A solitary soul
in the field,
wrapped in a plaid blanket.
This weather won't stop her connection
with nature.
Green against the red rocks.
Here it's Christmas
every day.
----
Million strands of grass
Working
Growing
Creating
something beautiful.
We trample it,
never noticing
the beauty;
the miracle
we don't acknowledge.
Home to many,
appreciated by few.
"Don't pull the grass!"
I make a mud pie instead.
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