Feuding with grass

We thought as we'd leave
the pliant grass
would remain impressed
in fidelity
our bodies traced
where we had lain

As well perhaps
for love's
tender pride

- that we did not look back.

to see the sun swiftly bid

that green phalanx-
spring to attention
with unfeeling haste
so to lure
anew, the aching whims
of anonymous lovers-who'd naively rest
cushioned
-as we were-
in verdant deceit
not fifteen minutes before.

To accuse you,
Grass
in your spite, of having spurned

my conceit
in yielding to others;
would invoke a rare sentience
peculiar to our ill-conceived feud.

and dismiss a less prosaic truth.
which lies in nature's
remorseless instinct:

that wilts
the daisychains of youth;
that rains,
heedless of your new french dress