The wind rushes by like a harried commuter,
No clue of the turmoil it leaves in its wake.
All in its path are exposed to the moment -
Only the grass is inspired to dance.
©1998 FP Maddlone
The Grass Dances
The wind rushes by like a harried commuter,
No clue of the turmoil it leaves in its wake.
All in its path are exposed to the moment -
Only the grass is inspired to dance.
©1998 FP Maddlone
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