Barefooted Through The Grass Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My life is as insignificant as a grasshopper hatched
On your shoulder
Blades,
And you could crush me with your freckles,
Or you could gently blow me off
And have me seated beside you in time for
Breakfast;
But that is how little of life I am in comparison,
While you kiln your bowls and ferment your orchards,
And all of that given to your
Sweet daughter from the mouth of your breasts;
And you could be so generous,
And I could be your lucky friend and give you tips of
Apple-orchard wisdom,
If you set me down beside you
And sometimes French-kissed by spider-webbed wings.
I wouldn’t imagine or mind that there
Wasn’t any special holidays for that:
Just take me up with you when you jogged.
Or set me up on the dash of your car when you
Wanted to get somewhere fast,
As the river walked.
Your husband wouldn’t even care,
Because I still must be the most insignificant of things,
Like the wisdom of a kite lost to some
Kindergarten,
While the beach is so needy and populated by
Underaged tourists gotten lost from older fieldtrips;
It would save me entirely
To be baptized beside you in those little pools,
And who is he to care to know
The homeopathic taboo I wish to choreograph in
An acre of a centipede pinioned
Along your ruddy clefts
Just as wholesomely as a snake running along
Barefooted through the grass.