By Jeffrey Subramanian

Is it a crime to cut the grasping grass?

To mow a row and let the worries pass?

To start another in the same straight line,

And watch the random dandelion die?

Is it so wrong to pick up fallen leaves,

And hear them crackle as the mean blade cleaves?

To smell the just cut grass’ acrid juice,

And let the scent of oil and sweat diffuse?

Is it a sin to look into a cloud,

And feel the thing, and thank the Lord aloud?

To watch an airplane write a smoggy sentence

In a paragraph of clear crying repentance?

This is no sin, blue-collar crime, or wrong –

You are a child of Adam. You belong.


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