15 November 2016

Within The Rites Of Spring

And why the birds are telling me can’t be denied, 
I am their tree with root’s reality embedded in my 
mind; it’s Spring they say, - and while we cannot 
see the growth as yet its in their hormone’s whet 
which blades those branches separately; voices 
chorus in a guest of temperance which we have 
learned to voluntary bless; your song is better of 
the now I praise - altho’ the chill still lingers yet 

The sun determines when we sing they cry, & in 
its rising earlier makes each day an opportunity; 
with time to spare we’ll feast in plenitude you’ve 
bet as chance of luck with song to feed a brood 
we’ve yet to sire; be my guest I eulogise, that is 
what breasts within the rites of Spring 
© 18 July 2016, I. D. Carswell 

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