The thrice cut shade remarks,
Bracken laid to brittle splinter,
Musk rise as evening sparks,
Sense inward delicious knowing,
Footsteps break quiet when still,
Breathing feels when inside going,
Lustre of the shadow at will,
Shackled unto calendars as vine,
Leaf renews for vigorous bloom,
The flower to the Sun align,
Summer song shall beckon soon.
Rowan Blair Colver