For this week’s Look Closer, What am I, from details to the big picture, I chose green, or it rather chose me. It is winter here, in South Africa and it feels wrong (to the Northern hemisphere born self) to still see so many green trees around, and roses blooming in our rosebushes, the Bougainvillea with its regal magenta flowers smiling at a clear aquamarine sky – forever depleted of snow.
Yet green it’s good… When I look at this patch of green I can see the veins from my wrist and the lines of my palm, my life and my future are in it.
A whisper of wind can make it shiver, yet the leaf does not break; it bends under its strength, pretend to bow at its will. Yes, I hear you, it seems to acknowledge the wind – but does it really?
Leaves are building blocks, nature’s shards of stained glass windows.
Leaves are past and present and future, a memory and a warning.
Leaves are nature’s collection of rare moments.
Leaves are the reminder that the vain will pass and perish and the youth will, eventually, decay.
Leaves are the reminder that all that’s different to the eye is, elementary, similar.
Look Closer, What am I, Green…
for nothing is what is seems.
See with your mind,
not with your eyes.
I’ll leave you with a short poem:
Three salmon shade hens
Feathered feet, ten toes each.
A bright green worm stretched.