for St. Patrick’s Day….
The winter-bare branches wore green;
not full summer sleeves,
but more than a blush.
Smaragdine: yesterday’s word of the day…
a foreign word if ever there was one,
sounding like some cheek-curtling dessert
of the Vikings,
rather than one that might–anon–
rename these purple, high-desert hills.
Hmmm…I imagine a coffee table book,
Smog to Smaragdine:
The Fashion Evolution of Global Warming.
This is not a poem…
just a bleary morning’s musing,
a means to pour the pollen-silt onto a page,
and clear my senses for the unrestrained Spring Revue
of birdsong and brightening sun:
Warming’s happy chorus of
M.L. 3/ 18/17