Evening Poem, June 9, 2016

This green evening

The grass, the unharvested
Overgrown asparagus like
New trees, moss green with
Foliage dark and wispy
As Tina Turner’s hair.

The garlic spires, muted green
Are parallel, all
Slanted west to where
The sun left the sky
Their angles so pronounced
They seem to defy gravity.

The grape leaves
Still light green
The new leaves lighter still
How is this?
Do they glow with some inner radiance?

All fades
In an hour all is shadow
Form without color, without hue.

Copyright 2016

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