Mexico for instance, seen from the air,
crossing over land, heading toward Cancun. It is
a nubbly green carpet stretching to the horizon
without a town, a road or a building visible.

Or, seen from an air-conditioned bus kilometer after
kilometer on the drive to Chichen Itza from Cancun,
the green is like two walls pressing in on both sides
that might easily close over and bury the road.

Or it might be the green of crocodiles in Nichupte Lagoon
waiting patiently in the murky shallows near the shore
for prey they might latch on to and drag under water,
perhaps, if lucky, the occasional hapless tourist.

And always it is the sea's band of light green nearest shore
modulating to darker bands as the eye scans outward toward
where turtles, returning from thousand-kilometer journeys,
will emerge to deposit their eggs on beaches shared with bathers.

It is the plants in Chapultepec Park's Botanic Gardens
watched over by bees made of braided twigs and vines.
Other colors, an occasional, white, red or purple appear here
only as embellishments that green produces to adorn itself.

Finally, it is the green of the sacred maize that nourished alike
the makers of jade masks, stepped pyramids and stone heads.
It is the green grass of the ball courts where teams competed
and the earth drank the red blood of those who won.