Miracles of Grass

A devout gardener, my eldest comes out here
each day, to inspect, to water.
Sometimes he waters the concrete, sometimes
the soil. Most of it
is sapped up by unseasonal sun,
some soaks in. Butas we persist, he and I, we see
this transformation, like
a renewing mind: creeper grass
stretching out
green tendrils into a former wastelandand I am mindful to watch
the miracle of creeping grace
expanding where it is not seen.

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