Well, the poetry reading is long over, so I feel this can be shared.


But I Dream of Green


I walk this land, beautiful in its own way.

Stark land. Tan land. Flat land. Dry land.

But I dream of a land green and lush. I dream of gentle hills and slopes. I dream of mud squishing between my toes.


I cross a creek bed with no signs of water. Its sign makes the grandiose claim that I cross a river.

I see trees growing tamely in yards.

But I dream of trees reaching to the sky. I dream of verdant swamp vegetation, rich even in winter. I dream of wide rivers wandering along banks filled with grasses and bushes.


I see beds of flowers in yards, colors contained within borders.

Tidy beds. Controlled beds. Watered beds. Tended beds.

But I dream of flowers run riot. I dream of wisteria vines twined through trees by the roadside. I dream of wildflowers in fields. I dream of water lilies growing in still water.


I see the sky above me, arching over me, stretching as far as I can see.

Blue sky. Cloudless sky. Wide sky. Big sky.

But I dream of a sky that is bounded by trees. I dream of fat, white clouds drifting through the sky. I dream of water-filled thunderheads.


I walk a country that is now my home. I love the dryness, the wind, the sun.

But still I dream of green.

By Steve Cole (Stevecole) on Monday, May 05, 2014 - 07:15 pm: Edit

A girl and her wolf