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The Green Chorus

August at green: the growth chokes the garden, and a light rain presses its benediction onto the plants. I watch the wind disguise the vegetable stasis, the still green chorus of the world. ‘—the inadequate summer that we cultivate.’ I sit in the shadow of myself, and write Beneath the dripping roof, one bright leaf jumps vigorously, jumps and bobs. The drops hit it and it rights itself.

© 2003-2020 Stephen Taylor
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