California poem unfinished | Linda Chown

Where the Green Grass Was Yellow

In the sun we were riding
In the sun where the green
grass was yellow bending 
in such consummate purity California 
you were a paradise 
spinning open freedom. Inviting us in.

We lived in wood, touching trees
Wind-chimes and abacus. 
We ate food we made our own.
Inside flutes and recorders
Oboes and harpsichords in a cool plush of sound.
We ate chicory and wild violets like paintings
It all grew slower, then, on that road. 
Where we got a second wind
fables of the new earth and its people.
Making all this new energy together
And outside this silent plenty 
A sheet of rich yellow 
A violin and a soprano 
Singing of freedom

Linda Chown…

…is a writer born in Berkeley who has been socially aware all her life. Years in Franco’s Spain only taught her more about group action and collaboration. Professor of American and teaching World literatures teach her how to live and love. Intensity is her middle name .

In The Bezine