I’m dreaming of greens—ferns, lawns, leaves, sprigs, sprouts,
shoots, seedlings—displays of fresh starts. Oh, gorgeous greens.
Winter, you’ve etched and sketched your display astonishingly.
You, Dear Gray One, have made your seasonal mark—A+ you get.
As seasons’ sentiments collide in times of gray,
I longingly stare at paper-bag brown lawns,
empty planter’s pots, and spindly, leafless limbs.
Embracing a comforting dream as balm for a soul,
I’m soothed by the word green. I replay wishes
like a song in my heart. New-life limes. Greens.
Give the seasons four. Beautiful they are. Encore!
Thank you, Winter, for graphite grays, wedding whites,
most-memorable icy transparencies of a stark décor.
I’m waltzing in fields of flowers, delightedly roaming row by row.
My heart is full of wishes. Renewal. Dreams of gorgeous greens.
Spring, you wonderful thing! Oh, Spring, today? I love you more.