While walking over the snow at sunset, I hear small voices at my feet: "Bend down here, and lend us thine ear, For we have a tale to tell.
“In winter, we're coated with morning frost, Then the snow will try to freeze us. Yet under the snow, we patiently wait For the springtime sun to warm us.”
In the springtime, the children run And trample us as they play. But just bend down, and look at us closely, At the way we spring back up.”
The summer rains will pound on us, Attempting to make us drown. But thirsty we are; we just soak it back up And we dry into a verdant green.”
“In the summer, the lawn mower roars And chops off all our heads. But after it leaves, somehow we manage To grow ever taller still.
As fall approaches, the mushrooms and weeds Will try to choke us out, Yet it's always us, the mighty grass That remains long after they die.”
“At the end of fall, as the trees around us Shed their leaves to the ground, Like the snow, they drop from the sky And fall on us, blocking the sun.”
O big grass blade, learn from us! Wait patiently for the Son And you will stand far taller and radiant Than the rest of us below."
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