Bells of the morning cast from ironworks by the stream
Dainty of the silver grass dew subliming with no thought
Breaking with a shadow loom thrown and building caught
Nexus sings enchantment within the rocks that bar the way
Spiralled ancient zircon with a prayer still ready to say
Mullen copse of nether field still stretches into sky
Despite the spate of infirmaries spilt from over their eyes
Lichen branch and candle smear with pentacle sitting proud
Strike a match and name the price for a tattered wedding gown
Sing in hush for the ghosts still seek with hawkish backward wings
Now run through fields with keen sight for a pair of toadstool rings
See much is fair in the cusp of words when sugar spins a tale
Vipers writhe but will not scare such magic of the shale
Mud clasped banks with cliffs upstream now patchworked in dry clay
Come walk with me the river path and watch the turning of the day
Rowan Blair Colver