I am re-posting this as an entry for EIF Poetry Challenge #16 – Nature Poetry. I feel like nearly all my poems use nature in their imagery and so I am using an old one. I hope that’s allowed.
This spring the green is wild, profuse and supreme, exotic and extant - the white cane chair left on the lawn seems to float in clovery billows. Over a mower's roar and the whispered conspiracy of the wind, the children's voices are cheerfully elemental like the clatter of rain. Painted shadows tangle, restless and involuntary; and dancing grass tips gesture and curtsy; shuffled leaf-piles quiver timidly - a choreographed colour spectrum as perfectly conglomerate as an artist's palette or the piling silver of a waterfall. We are the blind but chaotic worms joining fearlessly, ignorantly in with the spinning clock of seasons... the layering of the earth, the measured perfection of decay.
Out of the Cave 