THE LARGE TURF

After Albrecht Dürer

Here we are: look at it, a mess
of leaf and stalk and root,
of plantain and smooth meadow grass
of daisy and cock’s foot

yarrow and hound’s tongue, speedwell
and the dandelion
just in flower, and creeping bent; all
tangled and mingling

in this nondescript scrap of earth.
Just think of it: a piece
of paper and a muddy path;
a way, a world, a choice.