The Green

I road my bike,
I was 10 years old.
It was green
actually,
Appropriately clothed in
shiny green;
green forest
green,
green between yellow
and blue,
evoked by light
Primary...
rooted in
grass and grow.
And I road fast.
And I road in a pair of
spotted green shorts
that I made all by myself,
And I road with a Mona Lisa smile
From a house perhaps known as commons
not knowing much of lords and ladies at all.
I road to the fields,
beyond a skittely skattely
dirt track,
all loose stones
and beige dust.
I road to the fields.
They used to be bush,
all but before
that push to build
power and stations.
And I took
a patch of grass...
as I did a lot in this place...
to sit
and meet two worlds colliding.
And it was quiet.
And it was not quiet too.
Giraffe necked
phone trees
interlacing trapeze wires
buzzing life
But not life too.
And they seemed to be saying
I'm here
Im all
I'm everything.
Yet the wind
didn't give in
did she....
Because the wind isn't always soft you know.
And the wires
they teetered
about
all ruffled
and roused,
And the sun,
yes it did beat down,
warning them
Because the sun isn't always only warm
And the metal was hot and furious and ready to melt.
There were birds
sensing danger
at the circus too.
A little two,
A little me and a little you ,
carefully perched
with seeds to plant
and a twitter
a real twitter
twittered in some more
a swarm
of little to make many,
planting seeds around damage.
As if to say-
I am here
I am all
I am everything.
I was ten years old.
The green wanted to be wild again.
I wanted that too.
For me and for you.
Ironically,
I still do you know.