Looks like it’s time to settle in
Time for a game of bridge or gin
Perhaps we could do Scrabble too
I’m pretty good at words, are you ?
Of course I’d rather be outside
But there’s no place that we can hide
The weather is not playing fair
And drizzle’s raining ev’rywhere !
It seems to me that nature rules
Things that we do, tools that we use
This happened aft the world became
Under the dominance of Cain !
Wherever you look this world is shaded in green dye
From the forest’s floor clear to a rainbow in the sky,
A verdant place live with the miracle of God’s care
Plush valleys, woodlands and mountains that rise in the air.
What is green? I know that its not these roads that I trod
But the friendly gardens I pass that wave me a nod,
The blazoned grass in the fields and the oak when it’s young,
The trees that cover each grove with their seed as they’re sprung,
Grasshopper’s in flight emitting sounds that echo and hum,
No, not the air that we breathe but the source that it’s from.
Green’s my favorite color and the color of pine
Like the stem of each flower and the stalk of each vine,
The crest of each hill that’s burdened with blossoms it blows,
The fruits of the orchard and the tall corn as it grows,
Solemn moss upon a rock that betrays not its age,
A bird’s chorus sung from a branch, the air as its stage.
What is green? The deep of the sea, the heart of a palm
The chant of the willow’s sweep like the words of a psalm,
Caterpillars at birth and the new bud of a rose,
The youth of a man, the lid of his grave at its close,
The rigid eyes of a cat while its vigil will keep
In silence watching some prey, seeming lulled into sleep,
And there, like vespers in the wind that scatters its seeds
Fast being held in the grasp of life’s swift spreading weeds
Tiny sprouts that protrude through the wet earth after rain
Are now promising me hope that the green will remain.
While the green of an emerald possesses great worth,
The best of life’s green is bound to the crust of the earth
Be glad that green’s the one color we cannot replace
It relieves the monotony of blacks, browns, and grays.
A man today must be a man
Who’ll do the utmost that he can
In all the deeds and chores of life
Providing for his child and wife,
Think not a care about himself
Nor thought to gaining richer wealth
Than that of every other man
With selfsame goal or striving plan.
A thankless task to be attained
Once done the course of lesser fame
Than artisans with greater ease
Who spin precisely as they please
Yet reach a place of power’s height,
Poor weighted man with straining might
At his bleak door fate seems to laugh
Sad backbone of the fatted calf.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 