Always, always it will be this; first light
unfolding like a sacred brilliant star,
a bright new day rising up…a dove’s flight-
a scattering of shadows both near and far.
Morning upon the bough and all too brief,
the ripened fruit and leaves that bleed and burn,
a forest with its passion and its grief-
time falling dropping low like petals in an urn.
Always, always this is how life pervades
unloosed like the emerald rhythms of seas
where waves upon waves lift up and cascade
into the unknown where unknown depth flees…
caught within the quiver of a wanton power-
captured in the glory of a certain hour.