The darkest green. Part One.

A multi-part poetic coverage of an unusual encounter.

At first sight.

The sky went from almost snow

white

towards a shade of 

grey

that I would easily call 

black.

Still,
the tree was showing some color

despite the fact that you couldn't distinguish

the tired trunk 

from the newborn leaves.

I met the tree a long time ago.

I started,

what some may call, 

a conversation, 

while, I would 

rather define it as 

a tentative scan of

possible common interests.

First I dropped the grocery totes 

at the side of the lawn,

showing some fatigue 

to a few potential 

suspicious transients.

In those days 

it was inconceivable that 

I would sit.

It was rather 

a cautious almost bashful

approach of the throne.

My mouth

does not dare speaking.

My lips whisper 

a barely audible

sigh.

My ear caresses 

the trunk 

in a almost erotic touch.

A magical wind spreads through the branches 

and foliage flatters the senses.