Green began when I looked out my back windows and saw the new grass pushing up through the straw we laid down in the late fall after our addition was completed: fresh life sprouting on the new contour of our backyard. I then began meditating on the “evergreen” nature of the color – constant through all the seasons of life, be it the ubiquitous green grass (albeit covered with leaves or snow at times) or the pines, holly leaves, or deciduous trees in full leaf in the summer. Green is eternal.
I, on the other hand, am mortal, temporary, and frequently crumble at the slightest difficulty. The snows of life choke me out or weigh me down. Frequently, I’m more like the fragile early Spring flowers that burst forth with joy at the warming of the earth, only to be silenced by the cruel hand of an unexpected frost. This poem traces my pilgrimage from the backyard to “heaven’s blue threshold.” I invite you along for the journey.
Vincent H. Anastasi - 2021 New grass stands tall through rotting straw like obedient pupils called forth by Spring's instructive voice, and the trees' red-bud-geodes burst in colorful pinks and whites before falling in snow petals like confetti before Summer's leaf parade. Here I await life's greening in vernal envy -- the constant wealth of good soil, fresh rain, and abundant sun. Expectancy makes way as the early yellow leaves deepen into emerald and jade and the brown bare-branched chancels fill with the songs of robins and cardinals. All is young, but this green, the arbiter between extremes, endures despite late April's snow and cloud-masked suns, ineluctable through the changing seasons. Forgive my crocus-petaled soul that wilts at unforeseen frosts, my buttercup fragility reflecting cowardice beneath my chin. Let me green, too, arise at Your voice, deepened in the ever fertile soil of Your heart that my sequoia song might rise, incense like, brushing heaven's blue threshold.