Bodacious Verdancy

Verdant shouts reverberate across the fields,
as grass sings its good luck
over the clumsy spills of cumbered clouds.

Dragonflies, hummingbirds shimmer, bounce, skim and mate 
over the peaceful, mossy corpses of drowned trees.

Spring and summer sport their green umbrellas,
emerald hair, and jade jockey shorts,
double-daring fall and winter to object.

On these insouciant mountain mornings,
light warms mist until earth's patched hide emerges
first black, then gray, then green in spangling shouts.

How can I, small insect, keep silent in the face
of all this vibrant and vivifying bodacity?

I, too, must sing and shout and caper,
with chlorophyll in my veins and buds in my hair,
let myself be blown and sown by the wind.

So long as seeds sprout and eggs hatch,
songs are necessary.