earth’s favorite color is spring
spring’s best-loved color is green
and green himself loves to party
with yellow, red, orange, and pink
plants
Spring awake
earth dreams of spring
in her winter slumbers
she dozes on and off —
then trembles wide awake
a silent green earthquake
Palm’s psalm
Wind tries to show Tree how to run wild.
Tree: “I cannot leave this place.”
Wind: “Then let’s dance.”
Jovial vernal verse
Spring is the green
is the peace
is the breeze
and the blossoms
and the blues
past the buds
to the pinks
on the brink
and the warmth
and the warbles
and the weeds
all the yellows
and the bees
and the buzzing
living branches
and the grasses
and the gardens
and the growing
and the blowing
of the pollens
oh! the purples
and the chirples
of the birds
and the beauty
and the butterflies
in the skies
and the sun—
Springtime’s fun!
Saguaro arms
a shrug, a hug
touchdown, letdown
waving, curling, sprouting
disco, vogue; praise, prayer
bird-pecked, green-specked
skeletonized, or multiplied
flower and fruity fingered
flipped, frail, or fallen off
perfected, nested, crested
Death lights heavy
Hummingbird mama
abandons her nonviable eggs —
but keeps checking back
a few more times, just to be sure.
An arm falls from a sickly saguaro
and breaks open on the ground
like a prickly green eggshell —
after decades of desert still-life
a few seconds of death-motion.
But the night breeze is so beautiful
those breezes are — so beautiful
it’s hard not to get swept away.
Desert weeds after heavy rains
Some weeds are nourishing, and some medicinal;
Some are beautiful, colorful, and downright flowery;
And yet others, even those that pop up one fine morning
as the tiniest innocent young sprouts of green —
are relentless, run riot, and are one hundred and ten percent determined as @#!% to @#!% up your @#!% yard if it @#!% kills the @#!% both of you!
Green grace
as earth sways us from winter to spring
nature begins her grace of glorious green
WILD’ness
WILD
is beautiful
wild is free —
wilderness is not
an empty canvas
for Man to do
what he will —
wilderness is
an already full canvas
painted by God
Feuille morte
dried crackling leaves
though dead
are never quite still
Poem of the April Palo Verde
Yellow.
Freaking.
Everywhere.
Change is in the air
Yes!
the delightful serenity of an autumn breeze
colorful leaves meandering as they please
Shrewd
cactus is not cruel
it is just so damn thirsty
you’d be prickly too