When the air starts to cool

anticipating rainfall

I morph into leaf-green.

 

I am a burgeoning treasure,

under the earth.

 

I am the sky

that has swallowed up

salt from a mutinous sea.

 

I am a spell

that is both dream

and poison.

 

I am opposing

poles of a word,

sending its war cry

out into time.

 

Where could

I hide myself?