There’s always a word in my head.
It’s usually a shade of deep deep green.
Like when you stand at the foot of a christmas tree
When it isn’t christmas
And look up.
Then a little wind blows around you.
It starts at your feet
And reaches your fingers
Then your hair
Which, often as not, gets into your eye,
Then it plays with the leaves.
The darker ones first.
And then the softer ones.
Where the light doesn’t reach.
And everything is waving.
Waving like it was forever.
Right then.
There’s always a word in my head.
It’s usually a shade of deep deep green.
Like when you stand at the foot of a christmas tree
When it isn’t christmas
And look up.
Then a little wind blows around you.
It starts at your feet
And reaches your fingers
Then your hair
Which, often as not, gets into your eye,
Then it plays with the leaves.
The darker ones first.
And then the softer ones.
Where the light doesn’t reach.
And everything is waving.
Waving like it was forever.
Right then.
There’s always a word in my head.
