A clearer sky

The birdsong twists different in the air,

A dialect of valleys,

Making anew in March melody,

A familiar joy.

The daffodil nods it's head,

Acquiscence to the summer sun,

Falling beneath spring rays,

A claxon of green.

The buds swell thick and maternal,

Origami crafts in silken ornament,

Dazzling the young dew,

A plethora vista.

The earth seems fresh here and vital,

Blossoming boughs beating the bones,

Enlivened deep, old wood returns from death-sleep,

A strength enduring.

A blanket of roiling black sea surges overhead,

Diamond-specked shining out distant demise,

Aching, open, beckoning eyes to see memory,

A clearer sky.