Looking at the Grass

Upon a blade
The temperatures freeze vapor
Appears warm in an ice coat
Because few words melt
Rather the god of glass grass
Spreads anxiety and insincerity
Run people
This course finds criticism
Hustle away from responsibility
Even the bushes and buds
Hide but are found

Spring is trying very hard to arrive. It isn’t getting much traction though. As soon as a tree dares push a bud onto a branch, we get more cold. Yesterday there was fog in the evening and this morning everything was coated in a thin glaze of ice. I was looking at the grass and every blade was encased in ice. I know that beneath the ice the grass is still supple but currently it is immobile. I feel that at times I am frozen in place and though everyone around me is running toward their own destinies, I am simply waiting for mine to find me… Which is the better course?

The above is a little free verse since I am feeling a bit trapped. I suppose letting the poetry have some free rein will eventually bring me back to the main road.

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