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Green's Day

My garden has been turned into a bleached landscape.
Blanched green, as if an effect had been added digitally.
Overwhelming and pungent, the green clouts itself,
Billowing against the howling gale, and reaching out to more green.
Muting all other colors, which drop to their deaths,
Without complaint. Only the green survives,
Clinging like a weather-resistant cloth to wood and metal.
Some weeping, some chuckling, some creeping 
Into the limelight. Some withering, some bowing,
With a rain-dew touch that sets them all a-glowing.
I hear whispering, and wailing, as well as pining 
And complaining. The harsh wind carries all these secrets
On the brass strings of its precious instrument. No other
Business for today. It's green's day to shine. 

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