When Green Met Blue Sweet Pine needles and sap-shingled cones carpeted the grassy yard. Green boughs high above full, deep in a sky of robin’s-egg hue. A view perceived lolling flat, face turned up, at the base of towering trunks. A particular meeting, of that green with that blue, thrives in this heart, where memory dwells. I can feel it now, sitting in April sun, as birds chirp so clearly, oblivious. Pure bliss and simple gift; One-ness.
Marjorie Moorhead writes from northern New England. Happy to have found the language and community of poetry, her work addresses environment, survival, relationship. The author of two chapbooks, and a forthcoming collection, included in nine anthologies, and many literary sites, much of Marjorie’s work can be seen here: