The Joy Of Green Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My pan flute is singing
A sweetest rain melody,
- Gently gently worrying
What's it going to be...

A life so raw and wild,
Or a concreting stone, build;
Which doesn't tread nature mild,
- Or seeds which are getting spilled.

A suffering greenly heart
With freshness of the unborn,
Will it from earth now depart,
And dry up like a concrete corn?

My pan flute is singing
A sweetest rain forest melody,
- Gently gently worrying
What's it going to be...

Human kindness suffering
Because it longs for nature still,
While our self is bluffing:
It needs new ways to fill.

An unclear destiny...
Which no one has gone before,
An unknown concrete melody,
Its tune not known for sure.

While my pan flute is singing,
A sweetest rain forest melody;
Eternally on ringing,
What's it going to be... what's it going to be?

Please tell the world,
It's waiting... the joy of green!