leaves
“...that we may see & remark,
and say ‘Whose?’... ”
Natural minutiae,
random grace,
the flash and fascination held in
an order
accepted
as elementally
inconceivable,
as in
the leaves
of
the grass,
the flecking of old paint or
the scatter of our daily
visions.
-dm
“A child said ‘What is the grass?’
fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer...?
“I guess it must be the flag
of my disposition, of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief
of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners,
that we may see and remark,
and say ‘Whose’?...”
Song of Myself
Walt Whitman
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