The grass was already greener
come morning, rain-soaked and spring crazy.
I had forgotten, somehow,
it was no longer winter.
I had forgotten, even,
that I was a woman.
Oh grass, why did you have to go
and remind me. It was so lovely
for that moment to be nothing,
to be no one at all, to not be snared
in all this rushing forward
toward relentless blooming,
toward this insistent ripening.
I didn’t even remember
the word trust.