The Grasses Poem

The air flows
there are musical notes,
the water flows,
there are birds who still sing
and will bring
babies in the spring.

There is coffee and a comfortable chair
and willow trees make me write
foolishly in this box
while wearing only socks

The grinding of the grain
The turning of the stone.
The water falls
The generator turns
the generator moves electrons
The fingers move over the keys
bringing these
leaves of the grasses
waving in the breeze

The turning of the words,
the words they look over
my shoulder at the page
at the blank page

put us there
they say
put us there on the page
with the grasses

david michael jackson