(In the patio at Mike’s house, Puerto Rico)
How tall the green tree grows,
As if reaching for a higher place in the sky,
Or to provide a loftier perch
For the peering pigeon to survey his realm.
The leafy peak dances gently
In the light breeze,
Conducting the orchestra
Of lower clumps of green.
While the background curtain of blue sky
With puff-balls of white cloud
Brighten the milky wings of a white butterfly
Waltzing through the green.