In The Whistling Grass

Pampus shivers in the wind
Like a herd beast in the snow
Tall grove of slashing grass
Left alone to grow

And childhood memories
Come creeping back to me
Countless little injuries
From playing hide and seek
Beneath the rustling feathers
Of Mother Nature’s javelins
Thick stalks give way to jackknife blades
And we go hunting elephants

And if my memory
Serves me correctly
We always caught
At least two or three
And we stayed up late
To roast the meat
Beneath shining stars
On a backyard safari

And in the whistling grass
We whistle as we go, and
In the whistling grass
We whistle as we go, and
In the whistling grass
We whistle as we go, and…

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Published in: on August 25, 2009 at 1:56 am  Comments (1)  
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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. Beautifully composed … Peaceful to me! May sound a little silly, but I thought of the scene in American Beauty when the narrator is recalling his childhood. Acceptance and appreciation of the simple treasures in life.


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