The Green

The seething closeness after recent rain,
The trees relieved,
Ancient priests of Eden’s keep,
Steaming green,
Cleaned leaves gleaming,
Dreaming deep green dreams
Deeper than reason,
Sweet and seamless,
Vision dim but still seeing,
Being,
Easing into release.
Real ease,
Breezes teasing the healing leaf
No need of redeeming
Having never been deceived,
Never believing the freezing speech of winter,
But reaching easy agreement
With seed and spirit:
The keys of freedom.

Not appeasing or pleading
Or ill at ease and needy as we ever seem to be,
Greedy, feeding like unheeded, unimpeded centipedes and millipedes
The heat of receding sweetness leading us on,
Bleeding, feeble, diseased and dreamless,
Sleeping uneasily,
Fearing peace itself

But all our dear unheeded seers,
They see, they hear,
Each peered reading of leaf and stream
Leading to keening cries.
Kneeling here they grieve
For each reedy spear that disappears,
Receding out of reach.
They seek to teach
To intercede
To plead the clear weaving
Of flesh and seed,
But we jeer at their meaning.
We deem them unneeded
Merely peeling bells
Appealing to inflamed feeling
Interfering
While we,
We heave them beneath our feet
We feasting beasts,
We teeming blasphemers,
We least of these