What I love about the family of grasses are the common names – Velvet Bent, Leatherleaf Sedge, Dropseed.
One poem ‘Watergrass’ is taking shape:
I am rooted in water but breathe in air;
amphibian in lifestyle –
the best of both worlds.
I do not fear the prowling current;
my predator is the wind.
In good humour, he plays me like a tune
but if inclined, he can snap me in two.
So I’ve learned to be pliant
though bending with the wind
is viewed as unprincipled by some.
I tend to the gregarious
swaying with my siblings like a football crowd.
The year takes its toll.
Come winter, our number is depleted –
a rag-tag band of veterans.
But you do not see what happens
where I am rooted in the watery silt;
at anchor in the dark.