So green again turns a glamorous white, dancing upon itself,
As the sky meets earth, sleeping along the horizon.
The grass has perished, but dreams flaming in ash live,
A spruce standing of pride below the north star.
And time has swung selflessness in the bitter, calling forgive!
Let fly smiles of joy, a rhapsody folly with life.
To fret in thought of inked paper, rests below thought in mind,
as persistent beauty calls faux a changing tide.
And too does the tide seize, with blades etching abstract within,
the cover it crouches below, breathing a gentle glow;
Below the constant moon, wishing me happy from my window sill.