it tickles the bare skin that touches it
my fingers and toes and elbows and ankles
feel the organic realness of this grass
better than any man-made carpet
this is God's carpet
I look up at God's ceiling
there is one fluffy cloud
white, buoyant and happy
not lonely in its aloneness
I resolve to watch this cloud
relentlessly, until I can't see it anymore
but relentlessly is a harsh word
to describe watching a cloud pass overhead
the way I watch it is more contentedly
and full of dreaming
and less like a watch dog or a prison guard
and more like the slow lapping of waves
on a quiet shore
or the soft whisper of the wind
through the screen of a porch
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