31 Praise the shoulder-cushioning grass

31                       

Praise the shoulder-cushioning grass,

where, ball-like, bouncing, we fell down,

the blades pricking our necks, the crass

ground staining us green and brown.

 

Praise the fields where like colts we romped,

unlimbered our legs, sprinted and stomped,

the breath in our lungs unspeakably sweet,

and the earth alive under our feet.