I have never seen a grass so green,
as the green I saw in Majorca.
I have never seen a grass so green
that it set black the brownness
of olive tree trunks against it’s luminous light.
Seemed nitrogen soaked it’s every pore.
Drenched it’s slender blades.
And there it was, again and again.
Field upon field of it stretching
from shore to shore in endless acres.
The likes I have never seen before,
not even upon the Emerald Isle, except,
where a farmer had played god with
a nitrogen fix on a field or two.
This green, seen in April in Majorca,
was no mix of god and man.
It was an ever present light upon the land.
Would have made Gauguin pale at the sight of it.
And Van Gogh sink into states of colour frenzy.
A Grass So Green
2005 ©