He  stays  with  us  in  winter  storms
And  when  the  garden's  bleak
He  hops  around  in  sleet  and  hail
Appearing  pale  and  weak.

But  once  the  days  begin  to  lengthen
And  the  worst  of  winter's  gone
He  perches  high  up  in  a  tree
And  begins  his  joyful  song.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Where this arrow
all untamed
should land

Bury me there
in the greenwood

Or burn me on
the mighty river

Or give me to birds
or sea creatures
too fabulous to mention

Where this arrow falls
leave me there untended
time and flying arrow
spent

The misty morning
                           whispers Love.
And my Joyful heart
                           listens.

Sometimes it
Takes a
Cut or
A burn
To remember
It's reality
Around the
Corner
Making way
To your turn,
Making way
To your
Urn,
As actuality
Hit's you-
The saying
(Ashes to ashes)
(Dust to dust)
Though after
I remember that
Line--- I remember again
Our bodies are just crab shell's
For the crux
Inside of us.