A NATURAL SURFACE


When grass listens, I stand up.
It's the least I can do
Not to cough up a lung.
There will be opportunities
For that later. Looks like
Someone brought a hacky sack.
A footbag of dubious vintage,
An aberration. It carries with it
A vague uninterpretability, a
Sense of benevolent law and
Munificent order.
Not since the moon has a sphere
So guileless entered our lives.