Noisy Grass

A perfect Sunday sounds like noisy grass and Celia Bartoli doing
Sposa by Vivaldi.

I want noisy grass.

It sounds like this: Tssssssssss Tsssssss Tssssss

In the morning when Perri and I walk by the tall ornamental noisy grass, I stop and listen.
I love the noisy grass so much that I wish I had it recorded for car trips and work days.


Tsssssssss Tsssss Tssssss
It sounds so lovely that it makes the Toddy Over dissipate quietly.
It makes it suddenly ok that there are dust bunnies on the floor, sand in the bed
and nothing left in the house.

Except!
Celia Bartoli.

She will be waiting, arms sprawled, on the new couch when I get home from my very long day.
She will not speak, but sing to me and shake blades of noisy grass as I ready for my sandy chamber.

Yes
Yes

I will rest well tonight.