“upon these waves of tall grass swaying
scratching the back of the passing breeze
might I ride my palm along
the top soft tails in the warming sun,
and feel each blade give and bend
to gently slide back into place again
for this bounty is not mine to hold
unto the great mother to keep her own”

notes… ever drive by a field and want to reach out and ride your hand across the grass…. yeah… that was the genesis of this….