Curve

Stare up at the soft curvature
As it moves from thick to thin
The softness of the green
Held in the sanctity of silence
A blade of grass so simple
Yet gentle in its beauty
It moves towards the sun
Feeling small but mighty
The possibilities at the tip of its finger
Reaching into the air
To touch a space beyond its place
Listening to echoes of resonance
Calling out to its gentle self
By others who join
In celebrating the magic and the unseen
Coming together in a cacophony
Of silence, of gratitude
Of seeing what’s to come
Love, beauty, togetherness and goodness
In this big wide world

(C. Silvawood)