The grass is dead, long live the grass,
it's more than the sum of its parts,
and though it's burnt it's more than flesh.
It seeds itself deep in the heart.
It's food and flag bearer of faith
and it survives even in death.
I am not a little obsessed with grass and I've always wanted to write one of those poems with a superlong title and teeny tiny body :) A bit of a heat wave situation going on in the Londinium area.