Hometown bluesiest

Now it has been twelve years since I've been on the move through the wilderness of desert winters, taking extended breaks to fly over sunshiny, summery oceans, coming to rest now and then in the odd duck kingdom by the sea.


Until very recently, I used to mope for the fecundity of my hometown (recently awashed in toxic, brackish flood waters). I'd pine for those green days awashed in gold dappled sunlight which painted all things, even the very smallest blades of grass.

Along the boulevards where the shadowy green shades of half drunk, duskish afternoons, where once there was fragile light and tender greenness as far as the pot holes and roads stretched away from your naked eye, where once the beauty of subtle greens from the branches of the oak trees and the young leaves of the poplars shined in the sun like "Stella" systems upon the crepe myrtle and all the green above your haid, the green under your toes, the green between your fingers, where it was always good to be alive, always good to be nowhere else but there..