Unless

Each Spring brings peace and hope.

The being of things points to coming times
and every thin green leaf
contains a crowd of meaning


each leaflet puffs itself to shape
just like an insect's wing unfurling
and within
assembles perfect latticeworks

each net contains one single jewel
perfect in size and properties
to resonate in just such a way
in sunlight. Transforms the energy

the energy spat from the single sphere of fire
transformed so that it can link gases to make sweetness
and sent its sugars out: some to the roots
to power their never ending search

through the dark earth feeling for tiny jewels
some to the wood, to bring it closer to the sun,
and some to fruit, so that the sweetness
promised by blossoms now, in Spring,

will feed its brothers, out of its fullness
graciously. And in return, we spread the seed 

and nurture it.
And so the Spring is good 

and all the codes for this sweet ritual
go forward (unless) clothing this valley, and the next,
clothing the hills (unless) wrapping the Earth
in a living cloud-like green protective mantle.


The promise is there. It's strong.
Things change. Wars end.
Pendulums swing. Waves rise and fall.
Phoenixes may arise.


Spring will return.


Unless

(c) Richard Lawson 10 May 2015

Dolebury

See laso