Winter Grass
By John Herlihy

One day,
My mood assumes the color of winter grass,
And contains all the brittleness of burnished glass.
This is a day
Between rising and setting.
When the full moon finally descends;
As the full sun slowly ascends.

One day becomes another;
Our moods swing between elation and misery;
All at the expense of whimsical destiny.
One day at a time
Merges to create a rhythmic chime.
Each day bears witness to its own blossom;
Life assembles a corsage truly awesome.

Life is a passing river,
That pours over us, then into us,
Drop by drop to become a current,
That carves a world in this unique scene.
Life’s color changes with the coming of spring;
Winter grass will soon bleed green.
When the rains come, the grass will sing.

All is not lost,
There springs new life in the roots.
It stretches and pulsates,
As it prepares to grow into shoots.
In the tree tops, the swallows await
The coming of the dawn,
That lies upon the winter grass
With all the gentleness of a fawn.