Shades of green.

Not gray.

Catalpa leaf green.

Old farm house shutters faded green.

Outside the sliding glass window

All I see is green.

But I know winter is coming.

And it will fade.

But there will always be a hint of green.

On the old rock along the pathway.

In the eyes of a favorite friend.

On the walls of my dining room

Where Dorene’s painting hangs

With two men splitting rails

Feet pressed in Spring grass green.

I think of the dark blue green 

of the old log half decayed

In the woods I walk on each day

And I think of the modern world filled with so much gray

So much pavement

So much plastic

So many screens 

And not nearly enough green.