The first colonist here was the endless green
Trees culture diamond tears, clear of melancholy
They weep with twisted lichen fingers of rain-browned branches.
Mud rivers snake across the grass-bear’s verdant mane
As he meanders alongside rushing traffic
The concrete colonists
The steel thieves who came second.
Who will win, you wonder?
All you have to do
Is breathe a moment on the borderline
Watch smaragdine blood-rivers carve scars into a vacant lot
And flood a park with scattered constellations
Of tiny white flowers, wild lashes fluttering round each yolken eye
That blinks as if to say, you know where not to step.
Trails we sketched in cement
To bypass nature’s heartbeat here
To bridge the throbbing creek, to fence in timber’s roar
Are clotted now with leafy seas of unyielding mud.
Sidewalks we laid and prayed
Against the winds of time
Drown in the sky’s blue blast
And crumble as new petal-fingered eyestalks peek through.
Our aluminum river can sing gasoline
Can flash yellow lights to spray-paint gold the constellations
But we’re just a neon upstart
Another doomed Denny’s
This land is ruled by green.
All photos in this post were taken in McMinnville, Oregon by Anne Seaworthy.