Green is the anecdote to grey

Today—a day that is supposed to be sunny according to the weatherman—is accidentally grey.
Today is sitting on me, breathing heavy like an old grey goat whose skeletal ribs I feel on my back. 
I couldn’t believe that it’s here, and it’s grey
and that it has the audacity to sit on my skin and bleat 
reminding me that, some days—maybe most days—the benefits of being in society are clearly outweighed 
and you can’t even rely on something as mundane 
as a report on the weather today.

But then, a new leaf on a coconut palm saved me.
I saw it come out gloriously green
long, thin lines glimmering,
beating new in the wind;
so thick with spring,
so deliriously living,
for the sake of breathing,
knowing nothing else, absolutely nothing else, 
but the deliciously green will to be.
It won against the grey goat of a day, 
and now I’m convinced that
green is the anecdote to grey.

2012, palm leaf. Closed Book.

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