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.