I know a man who likes to pull weeds while he sits on the ground.
He says it’s very de-stressing.
He drops lawn seeds into the holes.
He looks out the window every morning
and goes down the back steps every day,
to see if some grass has grown.
He feels good when the fine green hairs appear.
I know a man who writes beautiful songs,
plays a beautiful guitar
and sings a beautiful voice.
The guitar is like a woman
and gets unhappy with him
when he forgets her.
He has to make up with her;
play, and talk to her lovingly
until she allows him
to release her beautiful sounds again.
I know a man who says he doesn’t think,
but bubbles instead.
Ideas and such bubble up in his brain;
quite different to thinking,
you see.
I know a man who lives on a farm
with several little huts dotted about
where family and friends
can come and stay.
He grows spinach,
watches birds,
and the cats wind round his legs,
purring and squinting.
I know a man who loves a woman
who likes to grow things too.
She finds her peace in the night sky,
watching clouds,
walking through forest,
and drinking from the river.
The woman is like a guitar
and misses him
when he is very busy;
so he strokes her
and talks to her lovingly
with his hands
and his lips
until she starts to sing again.
I know this man, who likes to grow grass...
he is a special and beautiful man.
