The Colors Green

Monet still walks in the evenings among passing summer clouds. Will any of the rain make it here?

We amble out into the lush green of summer in order to get lost. Lost and untethered to current time. In search of millenniums and epochs.

The fresh perfection of new spring leaves grows tattered.

In the eyes of Monet, the dings and dents fade away. In a green that is not one color, the Lush pulsates with chewing life. 

It grows on.

Lost in time.

Marching on the ephemeral.