I’m not Irish but I can identify at least

seven shades of green

from my perch on the porch

(even the air is green, which makes 8).

Church bells clang a little off-key

some forgotten hymn for the town

as dogs breathe 57 scents a second

through car windows as they loll on by.

A few gently rolling hills just beyond

homes and highways encircle my view

so it feels like I’m in a spoon about to be

dipped in a bowl of grass and trees.


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