An Informal Meditation on Nature

Creative Nonfiction- April 2023

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Blades of Grass

 A fly climbs blades of grass 

Tiny green mountains 

A giant in the distance 

Peering down with kind eyes

A bird flies behind

Yellow streak on black feathers 

Hopping from branch to branch 

Scared of the intruder 

They giant takes careful

Steps through the crinkly 

Cut leaves and blades

Flattened by flat feet above 

They encounter a pond 

Sunken scarps of leaves 

Submerged in scummy water 

Leaking on to blades of grass 

A small stroll up a

Steep still hill reveals a

Meticulously manicured lines of 

Packed pine trees 

Yellow circles of faulty flowers 

Faintly flow with light breezes 

One circle sparsely populated

Another, utterly overcrowded 

The feet find themselves at

The bottom of a tree 

Pine needles sitting below 

Sap leaking from cut branches 

Down the way a dusty field 

Perfectly drawn circles 

Only broken by tiny footprints 

running with haphazard joy 

Sitting in the park on the precipice of summer is incredibly calming. It also makes me think back to the long summer days of childhood. Sitting on the side of a shore with my feet in the scummy water of a lake. Tiny fishes hiding in the muck below wondering if the intruder is an enemy or a friend. Birds sing songs in treetops, hopping branch to branch. Brightly colored feathers twist and turn in a fickle frenzy, their delightful ballads heard all across the lake. Worms burrow deep in the ground, where the water still lies. Wriggling and writhing into the dark depths below. The blazing hot sun has since dried out the top most layers making the grass sting when bare feet meet the blades. Bright yellow dandelions are scattered about, attracting bees and ensuring you’re always careful where you step. Rocks gather round the edges of this great lake, waiting to be told a story. Huge rocks wibble wobble when a careful foot is gently placed atop, the best way to enter the murky water is the scorching hot metal pier. A journey to the middle of the lake reveals the true depths. The green stems of the lily pads eventually fade until all you see is the black brown water below. A paddle stuck down into the muck tells you how deep it really is. When the sun is starting to set and the day is said and done you pack up all your kayaks and volleyballs before hopping in the shower. Washing off all of the adventures you had.

It’s nice to just sit and slow down and listen to the birds’ songs for a while. I’d stay and listen forever but alas, I am an adult with adult responsibilities. So, on the journey back I make sure to take my time. Observing all that my eyes can and ears can hear. Yellow flowers and tiny children torturing their guardians with steep hills are a common sight. You can hear grandma’s knees snap, crackle, and pop. I hear the train’s horn blare in the distance while walking on the well-manicured dust of the baseball field. It’s undeniable that humanity and nature are intertwined. Perhaps that is sad to some but I love seeing how easily the planning of something can be messed with. Flowers can be planted in the exact same quantity but once they grow, yield vastly different results. Branches of trees easily grow at face smacking height, needing to be cut off or left to smack unsuspecting folks. This idea became the most clear when I saw the tiniest human tracking footprints across the baseball field’s perfectly drawn circles. In the distance I saw the worker drawing these circles on another field. I had decided to go around the field even though it was out of my way. Seeing the tiny kid run with so little care made me question why I decided to go around originally. I realized there wasn’t really a reason. The person drawing these circles didn’t care. The field was meant to be used by people. Contrary to popular belief, I am one of those, so I used that baseball field. Even if it was only to walk across it to my car. I made sure to step over the child’s footprints to preserve his legacy. Even if that legacy wouldn’t last more than an afternoon.