The Poetics of Grass

Outside of the Word of God, or Divine revelation, or perhaps a sermon here or there, there is nothing so demanding a decision of life or death than the grass releasing its smell as it is cut down.  The grass lays green, soft, abundant, and mostly ignored until the blade slices it in half and its aroma floats fragrantly on the wind.  Its scent can send us years away to summer's bliss, fall days of love and youth, it spreads over us an air of joy, of peace, of all the earth being right.  Even the hardest heart smiles at its scent.  On our very best day, who would have conceived of putting that into cut grass or thought of its symbology of the fragrance of Christ’s love being released only after He is crushed on the cross?  Oh, thy worthy grass, thy fragrance the smell of angel choirs, its singing bouquet going up to God, declaring “You are worthy, worthy O Lord for all the earth to declare Your Lordship!”