Tag Archives: Green
Deciding this morning whetherEasy
No Photos
The morning I think of giving up
Shades of moss green and orchid peaceably pull me back
As an elder, in Auto-Tune
Promising a child that dancing days lie ahead
An altogether different morning, now
That deserves
I deserve
A wholly-new and holy mind
Wild Erased
Just settle down
Tell it to your manic
Who used to threaten the world
If it harmed a hair on my head?
Just go gently
Take your wild, man
Ever contemplate the green
Would snuff it out for settled-down love?
“The Currency of Grace”
Surprised to see the a.m. sun
Afire
Shining through
The door I’d forgotten I’d opened
Left open
To remind myself I’m alive
Praise
A part of this world
Apart from this world
And out of this world, too
Anyway, first, foremost
Tending to all the green
I thought to stop, I felt ashamed
Guilt
For all I’m giv’n, undeserved
But, my friend told me the currency
Grace
Processor
It was as simple a thing as pesto
The green of it
The freshness of it
The scent, that, make no mistake,
Made me forget the difficult bridge
I’d thought to jump from
But instead crossed, then burned
On purpose
For good
Mid West
Woman to your man
Mirror to your vice
Skin to your fingertips
Proxy, perhaps
And all seems green to me
Stripes
We share Little in common
The Monk and Me
Soft, furtive early risers
Though grounded, I, facing West,
Facing East, He
And dining together, I linger
Dashes, He
Little Green Space we share, we
Mormon Row
With grateful paintbrush in hand, I am leaving space for you
A beautiful a background, careful, I capture the sun
Find now open an area broad enough and close enough to the sky
That your shoulders might fit and comfortably give rest to what is
I know not the shape of you, tho’ your colors, you’ve made clear
Bright-dark weathered patina that complements my tempest greens
Vivid chards of amber to offset my mountainous blues
Your easy frame an open window, a willing respite
Fighting your way, straight to the foreground of me, for me
Withstanding, will they find us, the very wildest of climes
Green
And when we’re nearly ninety-nine
Fading, yet certain of our fate and the love it made with us
Green still, relatively so
We’ll walk, treasuring the sands, the time
