A posing branch pointing sophistication
through a bark of whispered peace. A
pokcet of mute jingling daisys curling
melodicaly in the breth of gentle air.
And a shallow pool of clarity, shining like
broken crystal under the watchful glow of the sky.
This is where our loved ones go,
this is where they sleep.
Only to awaken as smiling robins on
lonely winter mornings to melt the
cover of cold