Green as the cat's eyes reflected in the pane
separated from the season and the sparrows in the rain
Green as the moss on the shingle near the sky
as distant from the sparrows as November from July.
Green is the dress I'll wear when I die
and watch my spirit rise in the green of her eye
indifferent to my dying, indifferent to the way
the blades green up and mock her from half a breath away.
for Sunday Muse #149.