Mown Grass

Driving down the freeway I noticed that they were cutting the grass along the verge and in the median strip. Big clouds of dust billowed behind the heavy machinery.

Even though I suffer terribly with grass allergies I was a little sad to see the grass being cut down.

In front of the mower the golden, dusky pink and shades of green grass, dotted with bright white daises, swayed in the breeze. Behind the mower the grass was short, uniform and yellow.

It reminded me of a verse about the flesh. Here today, gone in an instant. All in God’s control.

And it turns out I wasn’t the only one to think about grass today.