Fresh cut grass

          It's scent invades

my memory

underwater

Leaves rustled and did their best 
impression of ocean waves.

I closed my eyes
and couldn't tell the difference. 

Continuous Existence

A graveyard of cars buried

by growing grass,

the asphalt long since cracked

and hidden from view.

Rust is the only color

painting the aged metal.

Beneath the noon time sun

grass bows gently

in an Aeolian tribute

to power so great.

The ants carry on much

as always, much as they

always will.