Green emerges in shades and waves
across the hill
Ferns and leaves curling to
each other,
And reaching for each small violet.
The call of spring,
green, growing, opening, breathing
the place of hope and sound—
water rushing over stones,
gentle murmur over creek bed.
The scent of damp, green, brown,
growing, merging—
senses opening—
Eyes close, skin feels,
The moist, trembling moment.
Veronica O. Bowlan