and why does young grass look
at the field with greed and not with
reverence
it is all before him
might I  in youth
been as indifferent
and the old growth withering
understanding
and the young green as money
strong
goes on not knowing
how he got there
and the old once green grass
smiles forgiving
thinking
wait until the day
comes the rain lets you
wait and the wind
whips you naked
and then the sun burns you
brown and crisp
and you look on upon your shoots
when you are almost dead
and you care so much for them
and wise then
you finally
understand.