If you took the photo too it is beautiful! I really like the poem also. Hugs, Barbara
Born unable to see green
through it hangs from
every branch, I see
not a leaf of green.
Poets write sonnets about it
songs, quests, tales of heroes
who know green
that I’ve never seen.
How can one not see
what is all around?
Is my heart too closed
my eyes somehow
too full of other things?