(a story in Senryus)

Dew gently pools on
the rich green Bermuda blades
of suburban lawns.

Walking across grass
soaks your shoes like a splashing
child in a puddle.

Your passage diagrammed,
by wet, green tracks that trace your
path like ****** snow.

Proof you were here, real,
a charming gift watched through chaste
glass - that made me cry.