Death From Beneath, life from above.

He, in the meadow
Calls and sings to the sparrow
Sparrow, short answer in reply
The grass around long ago had died
Plucked a blade, examine
Death, he exclaims, from famine
You see that tree
Points in sunlight gestures for me
Peaceful ground it sits on
Halo created from the light of dawn
Yes, I see, the shadow is wide
Casts darkness from side to side
The grass has searched
Long for the sun it breaths, it earns
A gentle tear just one
He tries to hide but sparkles with the sun
Why, I ask, do you cry
It just hurts but is fair how modest things die
Unlike the tree it does not sit
No attention or jealousy within this thing exists
It lives for a simple reason
To soften the ground in summer season
You walk upon it everyday
But how often do you hear yourself say
Why this grass looks most lovely today.