Singing grass

It’s hot again and the grass is singing.

looking south and west

The grass is full of crickets,

singing summer songs.

Bent blades of legs spring,

fast as light flickers in the droughty sky.

Parched the grass,

full of movement, a crackled sea,

where the cock-sure jays strut

and reap their origami harvest.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

18 thoughts on “Singing grass”

      1. I don’t want to tempt providence. Finbar (Spanish greyhound) hurtles around the field like a mad thing (Spanish greyhound) and if he catches a foot in a crevasse…

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