I plucked
A single blade of grass
In early April

The tip was brown
Old and withered
Dead and dying

But the root
Was a stunning
Brilliant green

It was alive
Happy and well
Thriving on the
Water left from the
Last snow

That blade of grass
Is you

Soak up the water
From the earth
And glow
A sparkling green

I'll make sure
to look beneath
The old and withered
Brown tip

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