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Adrienne Rich - Rural Reflections
Work rating: Medium

	This is the grass your feet are planted on.
	You paint it orange or you sing it green,
	But you have never found
	A way to make the grass mean what you mean.
	 
	A cloud can be whatever you intend:
	Ostrich or leaning tower or staring eye.
	But you have never found
	A cloud sufficient to express the sky.
	 
	Get out there with your splendid expertise;
	Raymond who cuts the meadow does not less.
	Inhuman nature says:
	Inhuman patience is the true success.
	 
	Human impatience trips you as you run;
	Stand still and you must lie.
	It is the grass that cuts the mower down;
	It is the cloud that swallows up the sky.
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