The green grass of spring
become flaxen yellow remnant
lining the drive and the stony paths.

I did not cut the grass as I have done
but let it be. It lived wild for a time
among weedy things and dandelions.

The dandelions flower still 
towering about the wilted grass.
Which are lovelier I cannot say.

Perhaps it means little to write
of dead grass and dandelions.
Yet here they are along the drive.
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Portland, Oregon - August 9, 2022