For you are green, my love, br like trees in springtime, out come your buds br and soon the leaves and blossoms. Some smell sweet br and others far too far above our heads to know br if what we see have scents the breezes blow br into God’s nostrils as a pleasing odor. br br Look, I am here, my love, br like grass the year round, sometimes worn down br by careless feet, but springing up anew br and spreading roots deep in our neglected lawn, br where if I wait, the blossoms fall upon br the cornerstone, reigning under the trees.