It wavers in the breeze
A line of sunlight marks it
a dog barks, a car backfires
It moves to and fro
It shivers and budges
prostrate in prayer
Gratitude for its roots
often dust falls between
Sometimes rain
Sometimes shoes boots paws
Always the breeze
The gleam dressing the margin
The vein on the blade
Holding the sun
On a striking leaf of grass
that refuses to be part of the clump
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