~ Imperata cylindrica
Slopes covered with them are prone
to catch fire: thatch grass, satintail,
spear grass, sword grass-- a field of it
igniting in summer even when still green.
And we, as children, throwing ourselves
into its body of secret runnels that parted
as soon as we lay on the ground. And gravity
drove our slick descent until, breathless,
at the bottom of the hill we stood,
coated with their milky fuzz as if we
ourselves had turned into seeds.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.