Espcially for a dear friend. You know who you are:

"The Green"

Green surrounds me, it fills my eyes, I breath it in. Light, dark and mottled it caresses me and I hear titters of tiny laughter in my head. Long and tall green canopies rise above me, the topmost branches rustling with the business of shelter for those below. Soft tiny green shoots rise up through downy blankets of old green gone to rot, veins like bridal veils over their faces. I am consumed, subsumed, I become one with the green and I see them dance.

They've gathered in a tiny green grove, where I lie, where I am as light as the lightest of them. They twirl and pass by me in swirls of green, with a hint of gold, red, yellow, and purple and orange. They dance up the heart of the green, the living, the breathing of all who attend, of all who are unable, but are open. They dance and sing, with bells tinkling, they gently caress my eyes, place warm green on my heart and watch it blossom with green. They move on, dancing the heart of the living. They who delight, they who keep the auld things and ways alive, they dance and I am filled with green and I am grateful, yet they come to me with gratitude? What's this? Ah, I find the green cannot be without my belief in them and the belief of others, and I hear the underlying cries and moaning of the dying, the lack of the green, and try harder to believe even more, to give them my very life breath if it will help, for they have danced the heart of the green, the breath of the green and I would see it spread.

© katsagewalker