How useless I am, thought the yellowing blades of grass!
Abundant in form and fully grown!
Yet, I do not bear any tasty fruit
My seeds are gritty, and not fit to eat
Oh how worthless I am as a crop!
Growing without being
tended to; but trampled upon by every feet!
Today, I am left with only some aging greenery!
But tomorrow, that too shall wither away!
And once I dry, I’m but a useless stack of hay!
Worthy of only feeding the mules!
So fretted and thought the aging grass!
Before it became the holy hay on which baby Jesus was born!
So friend! Don’t you worry when you wither today!
For the petals of God’s plan will soon blossom before you!
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