Of jets and lawnmowers

A young girl
      lying on a hillside
      tall grass reaching up over her head
The sun bleaching the blue sky like glass
      the light
      breaking up
      through the blades leaving
Slim shadows on her eyelids

There are ants under the backs of her knees
and dry grass scratching her bare arms
but she doesn't move

She just looks up

Clouds whisp by slowly, drawn along vapour trails
      with the distant whine
      of jets
      and lawnmowers

This is all she has:
      the tall grass reaching up
      through all the time in the world.

Now, after the long passage of time in the world,
      she can barely remember
      what it was like,
      her tall grass,

Except when she hears the distant whine
      of jets
      and lawnmowers.

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© 2006 Esther Vincent