Not as it is—chemically infused,
without weeds or plenty of insects—but
as it was—lush, wild, full of worms
and ants, earth of dirt and stone,
scent of rich mineral soil where
grass held—green fiber of the sunlight,
foot holder, sole cradler, body
hammock rustled by the wind,
bed for the cat, food for the horse
and cow, cushion for the toosh—
oh, to sit on the grass, to lie
on the grass in a field kept
up by sun and season, rain and
teeth!—lover of dandelions, of crabgrass and wild
flower, lover of
the hungry animal, the cat
and her kittens on hot summer day—
fresh as no other freshness
at dawn, covered with dew, moist
as licked lips. Where have you
gone in the 21st century? Can I
feel you in America, country
we have decided to tame? Will you re-
lease your scent and
restore what we have taken?
Fool, I am green.
—
Donna J. Gelagotis Lee is the author of Intersection on Neptune (The Poetry Press of Press Americana, 2019), winner of the Prize Americana for Poetry 2018, and On the Altar of Greece (Gival Press, 2006), winner of the Seventh Annual Gival Press Poetry Award. Her poetry has appeared in numerous journals internationally, including About Place Journal, Cimarron Review, The Massachusetts Review, Southern Humanities Review, and Terrain.org: A Journal of the Built & Natural Environments. www.donnajgelagotislee.com
