After spring’s green shoots,
Summer was a furnace!
And the leaves
Of the tree fell
To silent rest;
Beneath an Azure sky.
A fallen crown.
A mourning song.
A single bell.
Now on this winter’s morning,
Silvered gems dazzle
In the frosted grass; where
Green footprints remain.
Three days old.
Amongst the jewelled spikes
Of the ice laden Birch,
A Robin sings
Beneath the sapphire sky
Of a virgin dawn.
A primeval melody.
There is a crack in everything!
And the ancient darkness must break,
Into reborn light.
