(c and c please. The the's in S2 and 3 are delibrate for the mood I sense.
Your thoughts welcome.
Green Grows Summer's Brown
Lightning brushes across the South ridge,
from bulge to edge, Gaia's eyes flash.
Green the driveway gravel,
green the farmhouse shakes,
green the thistle behind the barn,
green the grass unwatered since Flag Day.
Thunder clashes among the clouds,
from hill to valley, Gaia's voice cries.
Still the robins in the wild plums,
still the cattle huddled near the barn,
still both hound and the coon he will hunt,
still the child who waits supper.
The sky is green tonight,
the sky turns orange as evening fades.
The sky, orange, is as bright
as the new box at the neighbors.
And on the lawn
under Gaia's gaze and voice,
we forget how brown our lives
and stand in wonder
as when She and we were young
and believed
grass was always green.
Feb guest is TE Ballard and Gar does garbage at:
http://gardawg.homestead.com/gardawg.html,
Poets for Peace. ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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