When Green, Again, Appears

When the bees begin to leave their honey mansions

to go find groceries

for the village symphony,

I remember

to notice

the green.

Groggy earth and sleepy branches

gently thaw

their memories of winter

& by the trillions

begin to smirk in wondrous, green diversity.

That’s the joke,

again,

they now recall:

death is an illusion.

When the green, again, appears

I consider every moment

I thought

something would end:

me (or what I thought was me)

my joy

my love for another.

How can something that is endless end?

Pause

and hear

the green

remind you

of who

you are.