Verte

Methinks my own soul must be a bright invisible green. - Thoreau

Emerald fields of verdant grass.

Four-leaf clovers and ivy scaling trees.

Hydrangeas avec pods brimming with placid peas.

Frogs ribbiting on lackadaisical lilypads.

Jealous faces hued of envy.

A sea like Pthonus' chartreuse glass.

Apostles of the kilt.

In castles that the battles of Eire's bagpipes built.

Saintly spruce trees.

Angels praying 'pon naif knees.

Sprigs of mint atop juleps on derby day.

Peacock feathers spread open like a Southern belle's fan.

Innocent, unripened fruit.

Growing.

Living.

Loving.

Breathing.

Things I feel and eyes can taste.

Imbued with the almighty's chromatic sheen.

Green.

That's what I mean ...

Author's Note

"A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener." - Thoreau