Zary Fekete
It’s time to cut the grass.
Except have I spent any time to consider each blade? Never mind each blade, have I spent time thinking about even one? Was I there, down on my chest in the black earth, to see the first moment the tiny, green tendril touched the outside air? If I had been and if I had stayed down there, what else might I have seen? I would have seen that first tendril joined by a chorus of others. I would have seen small burrowing ants marching through the forest of green stalks, following the pheromones to their maze somewhere else in the yard far below. I would have seen the dandelion which grew next to the green blade, temporarily shading it from the sun while the breeze flew across the fields.
I could have stayed there these past weeks and been a part of that smaller world. Smaller but no less vibrant and busy than my large one, in fact, perhaps more busy and in many ways more important. That smaller world touches the whole spinning blue globe in more vital ways than does my feeble meanderings through newspaper headlines and internet search terms and generally useless scrolling.
It’s not too late. I could do it. The black earth is down there waiting for me.
Except I might get my hands dirty…
Zary Fekete grew up in Hungary, has a debut chapbook of short stories out from Alien Buddha Press and a novelette (In the Beginning) coming out from ELJ Publications, enjoys books, podcasts, and long, slow films. Twitter: @ZaryFekete.
Briefly Write 