Wild Grass
by Karen Elaine Greene
I am the wind charging through you
disturbing crisp leaves on a fresh autumn morning.
I am the phoenix risen from the ashes.
Burst into flames
scatter
rise again.
I am the butterfly wandering from flower to flower
unaccustomed too settling long on one blossom or
another.
I am the grass that grows wild at the fence.
I will not be tamed; shaped into some pattern.
I am yours to treasure for a time
until my roots grow soft and I drift away
with the wind I am forever disciple to.
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