Whisper said the frog. Better yet, make no sound. In this way the grass will not be disturbed with the vibration. The leaves of broad grass do vibrate with the sounds of things and add to the hum of the day.
I despise the humming. It reminds me of being a tad pole with naught but a tail. I could feel the vibration of my limbs forming and budding. They grew to legs and that lead me to hop. What joy it was to only swim. No, I despise those vibrations of change. Nothing good can come from disturbing the grass.
The frog knows little. He sees only the past. A vibration, a change, a wisp of hope - these are what life is about. For something like the grass a glimmer, a reflection of sound are all that it can hope to muster. The inanimate world longs for something to animate it. How sad it is when a creature of volition resolves itself to an object, becomes a rock.
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