Three shrieking herons

Blanketing abundance

So much green


like there are no colours

and everywhere the deafening chatter

of silent birdsong

Three shrieking herons


A deceptive soft see saw



and the field of buttercups

like seabirds on the ocean

cooling sweet rocket cloves




Like a fountain’s first flush, ebullient Wisteria spewing from stone

Cascading abundance against still naked limbs

Suggestive greens propose upright clusters

like a light snow covering

Early green Black poplar

I could it see from the train going elsewhere

The terraces filling for the main event

A mirror on themselves


Tears of joy I long to feel

Just a still, one legged, lebanese Cedar


April rain

Still scrunched green


Full of summer’s intense green

Distracted by blue sky

and bluer black clouds

in close up

were the leaves ever bare?

was there never any doubt?