The solid earth has never yet complained.
There is only the slight scrape
Of the accommodating grass
Adjusting around your body its bent blades.
Impossible ever to get close enough!
And there are jungles to explore:
Part the grass with fingertips
To follow the travels of ants
And expeditions of other insects through the weeds.
Establish your chin.
On your forearm
A light-green mite
Is blown when you breathe
From its perch, a sunlit hair.
