My Door

It’s green. My door is green:
Lime green when the sun shines,
Otherwise more sage-toned
When the sun is not up.

And my door is open:
It let me out, and out
I went, to greet the spring
In the pretence I’m free.

I’m going to mow the lawn
And to behead those flowers,
To prove that life goes on,
And following my whim:

Man’s deluded attempt
At taking control at
Least over his little
World—yet a vain effort,

A momentary flight
Before crossing the door
Again, to find shelter
From Nature’s wild revenge.

Shri Ram :)

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