­            "... Come,                     
                                                              ­                 catch her."                     

                                                Rising;        ­       
                                                         anew                                      
                          fr­om glowing
                     ashes.                
               
                 Buffeted;          
               by the hollow
                   of her              
                             shoulders.             
              
                                     Swirling;                  
                              amidst sweet
                           handfuls,
                          gently
                               blown,   
                                from the   
                       cherries  
                    pinkest    
              boughs.
                                         ­         
                                    Wings spread;                  
        
                                   "Do you see them?"        

                     Flying
                            again...

                                           Off          
                                                  g­rid         
                                                    ­         without       
                                                                ­    a course.      
                                                   ­              
                                                            Wild  
                                                          sparks­, 
                                                              ­follow her tail    
                                       across an  
                                                  ever brigh­tening          
                           sky.            

                    Let                     
her fire
     burn              
your eyes.
          
                             Watch,                     
                               ­                                          
                          as her tears    
                                                 heal your                        
                                    pain.               
             
                                                    Reach out,              
                          
                                                  &                    
                                                                ­          touch                                    
                                    ­                        each                
                                                               silver lining  
                                              as
                                                                ­   she                   
                                          ­                    takes             
                                                         ­       You                      
                                                       dancing            
                                              freely              
                   on a
                                   breeze...             
        
                                   Floating                   
                                deliciously,          ­        
                     with                      
                   nimble                   
        fae;            
       
Spun,
                   in the              
                   wisps of          
               tiptoeing
                  spiders.
                                     ­
                              Dizzy 
                           ­             together    
                                 (now)
                                             with the sound
                                               of their sweet        
                                                   ­  laughter.                         
              
               ­         ~Open~

                      in
                                       ­       a sky of                       
                                                  blossom &                          
                                                                ­       sparks.                                                
                                     
                                        ~At One~               
                      
                                as       ­     
                                               All                            
                             ­         around,                  
                          she hears, quite         
                          ... unmistakeably ...          
                                                                          ~for the sake of mischief~                                                       ­ 
                                         whispered softly, with                     
                               ­              each bluster.                           
                             ­         
                                                          ­ *"Do you hear it too?"                                  

Seeing her face reflected; Framed, by widening skies...
  Quietly, to the puddle below her,
she drips the ask of
"Why?"

                                             in
                                            shaded
                                                     copse & bluebell          
                                                 bower, hot scents of        
                                        wild garlic give way to a
                                             mist of forget me nots. Let      
                                              those sweet fragrances mix,      
                                       as cooled air glistens on soft
                                       green; Breathe deep, the
                                               earth, as it's wiped           
                                                        ­        from your                           
                                      twisting
                                                    back        ­            
                              &
                              you  
                                                  beg                        
                           your 
                                                          ­    ghosts                                    
                           for release
                          "Do you feel it?"
                       ~where the bud grows free*~

"Life is not always black & white, Mr Magpie...
it's ALIVE! 
~ See Yourself ~
Mix the spectrum, with those stunning pigments."

Undone by his wings of black and white,
              I spit in his               
presence;

As he shadows me
on these solemn days -
in singular.

His head tilted
and beady eyes
watchful; Hunting.

He senses
carrion.

Fly away!
Take your sorrow...

Leave me be,
with this
grey.