Once Green

After all, what could be said of the leaves we crush underfoot...

Once Green


After all, what could be said of the leaves
we crush underfoot but that we remember them

as we remember ourselves: part of something,
two children in the park, burdening each other

with our play, thoughts of winter to come;
that we shall remain as they: perennially young,

growing mornings from whispers, how long
these arms that reach upwards, elevation

by inches as we shine with the wanting
to leap, to dance on air and – in our own time –

to risk a sidewalk kiss in the middle of someday,
regardless of the consequences.



***From All the Ways We Could Have Met
and previously published in Softblow.