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babies, grandparents, innocence, meditation, motherhood, parenting, poetry, serenity, simplicity, Wonder, yoga
Forget yoga, meditation and deep breathing. If you really want to live in the moment, spend time with a child. This poem is a delightful reminder of one of the joys of parenthood and grand-parenthood. As we grow up, life becomes complex, and we lose touch with the beauty and calm of simplicity. Seeing the world through a child’s eyes can transport adults back to a time when every blade of grass was a revelation.
A Blade of Grass
You ask for a poem.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not good enough.
You ask for a poem.
I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making.
You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You are indignant.
You say it is too easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.
You ask for a poem.
And so I write you a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,
And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.
– Brian Patten
When were you last awestruck…
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Gail's Blog 
This is so true. You know what I’ve also noticed though? As adults become seniors they start to see these little things again. I’ve spent time with some elderly people who point out these little wonderful things that we’ve become blind too. 🙂 I wonder why we miss all of these things for so many years in between?
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That’s a great insight, Mo. I guess the young adult and middle-age years are consumed with a different focus; dwelling on the past, competing for a role in the present and anxiety about the future. I think we’re always trying to fix something, and many of those somethings are out of our control. Those emotions have no place in the innocence of childhood and for those fortunate enough to come to terms with it all during senescence. In between those life phases, we keep looking for that special poem and sadly forget that all we need is a blade of grass.
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