no one recalls the red bird's haunting song
in dead of winter but it marks the spring

the creature's small and yet its voice is strong

what we discover when we fall among

the hordes who struggle to avoid the sting

(no one recalls the red bird's haunting song

but has a sense that they are drawn along

into the silence) is the sharp high ( Read more... )

 whatever happens there is no regret
for tempests that  have shredded new-leaved trees

awakening the youthful from their ease

into a present that is all upset

where each is cast at once deep into debt

not knowing whom to help nor whom to please

frozen in place by the harsh sky's decrees

and driven only to hard fear and fret

still there are ( Read more... )

 long toil will end when good folk all agree
on what is just and how the work divides

and on this morning we all wake up free

so many years that each lack harmony

we seemed only to wait for changing tides

long toil will end when good folk all agree

on how we fare and how we stand to see

the ones who move or that which still abides

and ( Read more... )

 when we are lost in rapture at the sight
of the spring flowers at last fully blown

we are then healed down to the very bone

of the last vestiges of winter's blight

so too when we have passed beyond the night

into another domain of the known

where once again we cease to be alone

we can be certain that the world is right

the simple magics ( Read more... )

 where all the edges reach into the heart
are no clear corners nor a single sign

that time is changing the dividing line

is never crossed yet all are kept apart

by the hard means of some still arcane art

which the most foolish will insist divine

or claim as kindly warm tender benign

although they bleed from entry of the dart

we're far into ( Read more... )

in all our doings there’s a rule we make

about the bounds beyond which we won’t go

those limits of the matters we may know

or of the facts in which we may partake

like the good flints that sharpen when they flake

or that swift stream with hidden deeper flow

beneath the mountain with the secret glow

all of the places that we can’t forsake

( Read more... )

 all of our answers turn out to be true
though journeys start and end in pouring rain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

our knowledge is constrained by what is new

not by the old nor yet by thoughts of gain

all of our answers turn out to be true

since what we've done must constitute a coup

in favour of the honest and the ( Read more... )

 in what new name are honours to be read
by those who fall along the weary road

bearing the last and most unwanted load

of fear and horror no unblemished head

do we acknowledge all our limbs have bled

leaking the symbols of a hated code

while it was plain that nothing could corrode

either the cover or the weight of dread

but there's a ( Read more... )

 when all is measured time begins to grate
upon the senses then we have to start

a different sort of journey where the part

that makes our human feeling more than freight

is what's required to set the message straight

not only in the realms of work and art

but so the honest signal might depart

from deep inside to past the furthest gate

not ( Read more... )

 here is a dragon that breathes golden fire
burning a message across the dull sky

telling us all that fate may be a liar

although we are the ones who still aspire

to honour in a world where all seems dry

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

a vision that combines beauty and ire

reminder that some final truth is nigh

telling us ( Read more... )