Drifting with the waves and the gentle breeze,
Listen to its heartbeat, telling us the way forward.
Give it the room, the space it deserves to cry out,
Even then we try to silence its expression with joy and laughter.
We seek our own comfort, not realizing that is our undoing. If you look out and look across, you’ll see what I mean.
The Green.
No more than the trees that we’ve dug up and forcefully replanted. The grass that grows only because they like our poison.
The change, insurmountable and evident,
The vision lost in the hills, no longer heaven sent.
Pushed beyond our borders and past the dock,
The Green.
Waiting patiently at the door for our eventual gracious, genuine knock.
