Suddenly, Ann Marie didn’t see her classmates. Rather, she saw a coyote, a prairie dog, and one, lost-looking buffalo who were all staring at each other the way she was staring at them. Then, Ann Marie was everywhere at once. It was like the best morning stretch ever. She understood that she was something else, too. She was still Ann Marie on the inside, but, on the outside she was grass. She could feel her roots twining in the packed dirt. She could feel her stems reaching up. But, most of all, she felt wonderfully golden which is almost impossible to describe unless you have ever been prairie grass.

Moreover, Grass Ann Marie felt, well, productive. She was sucking in the Sun’s light and turning it into a different kind of energy. Her roots were taking in the water from under the ground and drawing the liquid up to the surface and to the tips of her blades. It felt completely glorious.

Ann Marie could feel everything that happened in the grass. She could feel the buffalo lumbering, the pronghorn antelope leaping, the prairie dogs scurrying, the grasshoppers hopping, wild turkeys pecking, worms twisting past her roots, and much more. Animals walked all over her, and it didn’t hurt at all. She just bent down and then sprang right back up. Naturally, Ann Marie felt really a part of everything that was happening all around her. It was an incredibly powerful feeling.