Morning grass

Mick Talbot reminded me I haven’t written a Serpent’s Tail poem in a while.


Morning grass,

glass green sea,

fleeting glimpse of another world.

Hurled from night,

bright threaded net,

wet with dew,

through-strung with gems.

Stems bend,

send silver ripples spreading,

bedding for a day dawning,

morning grass.

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.

6 thoughts on “Morning grass”

  1. Every blade unsheathed, reaching from the ground with green sounds and brown origins. The morning grass tells me tales of foreign men who stained this very plain in blood of the ancients. I weep at their tales and lay on my stomach to beseech the fallen and the risen.

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