When the wind blows hard across the plain, the long grass may bend with each gust, but between gusts, it is already rising again. When the farmer comes to cut that field, because its roots have been tested and grown deep into the soil, it grows back. When the farmer comes and digs up its roots and throws it on the now empty plain to let it shrivel in the bleaching sun, it’s seeds have already spread to oh so many other places.

© words by Daniel DeMarle