Green is the grass we lie upon
Gazing upward at sky so blue
Dotted with soft fluffy clouds
Floating slowly but surely to far-away view,
Turning themselves from abstracts to specifics.
There comes Dumbo, see his wrinkled skin.
That one looks like an eagle aloft on powerful wing
Ready to plunge for a fat salmon which from his talons will swing.
There comes a cuddly squirrel, or a rabbit?
A curious pussy avoiding Fido, man's best friend?
Last but not least, a noble steed with flying mane,
Galloping as though to outrun some rain.
Such dreamy pictures, white on blue sky
Make us wish we could get up and Fly.
Green is the grass, just mowed and watered,
Edged all around with shrubs and flowers
Shedding their perfume, not counting the hours,
Drinking in sunshine to increase
God's gift of beauty to the earth.
The grass perchance is now too wet to lie upon.
Perhaps the sky is swollen with hint of more rain,
Perhaps our fantasy figures have vanished,
Perhaps we feel lazy and nap to our gain.
Grass that was green is now losing its brightness
As Fall starts its return and brown is the dominant hue
Except for seasonal flowers, a few of which may be blue.
The grass lies quiet 'neath a snowy mantle
That fell so softly during the night.
Its moisture holds promise of another bright Spring time
With flowers and bird song,
And our hearts rejoice in Creation anew
As seasonal changes again come into view.
So again, green is the grass we can lie upon
And dream,
      And dream,
            And dream.

Ninety-plus-years young, Josephine Casey is HPNA's Treasurer emerita.

Bright light
swimming to the surface
a breath, first breath