squirrel-tail grass

I really turned on in particular to James Joyce, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Günter Grass.

The grass had a delightful fragrance, like new-mown hay, and was neatly wound around the tunnel, like the inside of a bird's-nest.

She threw out her arms as if swimming when she walked, beating the tall grass as one strikes out in the water.

The weed growing over every water, and at the bank of the river, shall be pulled up before all grass.

The dog stood with hanging head and tail, as if ashamed he had let so many of his enemies get away unharmed.

Everywhere cattle were being sold for a trifle, as there was no grass upon which they could feed.