Too soon green

The sound of green is soft like moss
and leaves on water
and sunny breeze
or misty rain
or eyelashes
and smiles.
With green we play wandering violins
and butterflies
and bare feet.

But this green
this spring
is like a naked child on the front lawn
cute but in danger
what if there is no misty rain
or eyelashes with smiles—
will we soon be desert people
drinking sand and blood
and making a religion
of praying for rain?

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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