The bright green of the trees.
Slowly at first, coming towards me, then whisking away quickly.
Dissolving into rockfaces and sky
The sun burns, reflected off glass.
An unwelcome fire in the middle of a forest
Rolling hills? Rolling mountains. humps on humps
Fields grass, underneath brown.
The little hills by the trees, the red barn and the solar panels
Go Green! They scream! Can't they see you could go green here.
The inverse of trees, sinking into the water. I wonder if out there our
ponds are reflected against another lens.