The Memory Of Birdsong
The memory of birdsong is wavering
by David Lacey
Upon the last ghost of autumn’s descent
As here and now within the moment,
The promise of spring is naught to resent.
As we celebrate death in an infants smile
As we dance in silence a roman mile
As we sit and wallow for a while
I find myself swallowing slow my tongue.
The young are shivering... restless in their sleep,
They can sense the sun god growing in strength defiant,
A giant of solar energy glowing beyond restraint.
The New Year is rising with the opening of beauty's eyes
As from a realm of sleep time bliss she is returning,
Ready to warm anew the soil with her kiss softly burning.