When I think of green I think of a leaf
Broad and thick with droplets upon them
Long since the rain has fallen
Weighted persuasive
Even the sun can’t relieve
I think of bush land, heartland, rivers
then green. Daintree.
Crushing oppressive and crowded relentless and wet soil under my feet.
I yearn for the sea. The deepest of greens and I scratch along the trunks until I find my feet.
Scrambling, pulling it all down. I’m reckless to feel it
then, there!
White sands beneath my feet. Leaves in my toes and brown things underneath.
The sands are relief. Parched, baked, dry as a crumbling leaf.
Until green, it’s there, wet cold green beneath my feet.