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Is it possible to yearn for a place and time
solely for its colors?
Green is my favorite color
so familiar, but not in our old garden
Everything was an out-of-this-world green
looking out our backdoor in western Kenya
nothing could match the crackling vibrancy
of glowing full-blooded chlorophyll
it seemed too good to be true
Open the back door, imagine a valley
shrouded with luminou...

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Two vacant park benches
under an old gray pine
are slate and damp
with dingy mold,
moss & pine needles
coat cracked seats
& tables crisscrossed
by mucus slug-trails–
        
A gray squirrel grips a stray
acorn between razor teeth
to sit and nibble under chilly
ashen bowers; this somber
winter day of the newborn
year. We sat there.

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