Dry Grass 



The wilting breeze runs close
to the ground. The sound of the
sunny day is broken by the faint
crackling of dry grass. Golden
reflection of the sun. I sit still in
contemplative study of the earth.
In  the center of nowhere, time is
nonexistent. Pull out my swiss
army knife, my magnifying glass
catches a gleaming ray of sun.
A jumping spark finds comfort
among the cool dryness of the
grass. Oh!!! the wonderfull heat
of a roaring fire... 
Fire!!! Fire!!!!