Smell of Growing Green

Dreary gray morning;
No sun at all on the lawn.
Still, I go walking.

There is a bright softness,
A blueness beyond the clouds;
Warmth of the soft mist.

Cluster of clover,
Each green face standing alone;
Each making the whole.

Smell of growing green;
Patches of fern in moist woods;
High billows of leaves.










Ferns are springing up
As they've done a million years;
Time capsule in woods.












Only one bird calls,
Repeats, but gets no answer.
The woods are silent.









Ringing in the woods--
High pitched like a bat's whisper.
Forest tinnitus.









White styrofoam chunk,
Like a ghost among the leaves,
Tossed in the stream bed.