Green Scene
This evening will lead to no other night.
This evening will end
no other day.
This evening where all that’s seen
is green–how lucky
is that–
except where that bird just streamed–
a line crossing the t of tree and leaf and grass
blade–
My eyes hurt the ache of a heart
that can’t in this green
justify pain–
a farther bird swoops
the verdigris,
this one like the dark dot
of an i, an eye, an I–
Fly, bird, says all that is healthy
in me, all that lets
t’s be, i’s sigh, that breathes in
this evening,
this day,
this night,
as it closes those sore eyes,
then opens them,
looking out.
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A draft of a littlest sort of poem, written just for myself.
ManicDDaily 
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