I planted two small clumps of grass today,
six inches high, six inches wide,
each wispy and sharp edged
with a few brown strands curling about the base,
like it wasn't eager to get out and get growing.
Sitting in the house now,
the rain sheeting off the Bird Goddess arms
of my venerable cedar tree,
I look at the plastic picture--
twelve foot high silvery fronds waving against
a purple-blue sky.
My grass clumps, years from now.
Real gardeners are,
like bone china painters
Find the entire poetry collection This Nurturing Awe: Poems Inspired by the 99 Beautiful Names of God at