A Grasshopper Life
Grasshopper hopping from the brittle grass,
by Christian Langworthy
leg-sprung—flung hip-high onto hot cement—
your sidewalk legs waltzing, flaunting a hint
of happenings. I see you now! —hopper—
how grasslike your wings fanning this Sunday
afternoon while the day whittles down.
Hopper, climbing that blade of sun flying
into tomorrow, roosting until dusk
nestles in with the shadowed grass—jump now
over the lull of this day—hitch a ride
on my shoes—walk a mile or two—hobnob
with me while the day whittles down.
Grasshopper hopping, hidden in the grass—
you're back to being camouflaged—a seed
unseen in blended-brown—where are you now?
Hop! Hop, so I can see your life of arcs
before the world mothballs its shadows
after the day whittles down.
Hopper, hop lightly—kick that habitat—
stop roosting the hours away! Touché,
little hoplite above that brawl of blades—
hop over your morass of weeds and frass—
unfold your wings—take flight! Leave us behind
while the day whittles down.
Grasshopper, how you disappear in grass—
leaping through life with insecurities—
always one hop away from foot traffic—
one hapless moment from oblivion.
Be not still in life! Watch how hastily
the day whittles down!