Finding the New Green

Damp earth opens to the light today,

Dark and heavy with the scent of old frost.

I walk the fence in the early mist,

Finding the new green in the dirt.

Mossy velvet grips the north side of the oak,

A low, green rug for the beetles to climb.

Mint-light cuts through the new leaves,

Staining the rough bark with a quiet strength.

Sharp spears of grass break the asphalt,

Drinking the cold rain from a Tuesday sky.

Silver ribbons tie the garden to the clouds,

Holding the wild world in a tight, wet knot.

Nothing is missing; the land is whole.

A restless green climbs the stems,

And the slow work of the light has just begun.

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