His hands are cold as stone
While the sparrow tightens screws
on a sunflower
He sees the sounds of crickets and
cicadas
As the crowds return to Glastonbury
His warm hands forget the scars of
winter
Some pain is not cured only pushed
to the side
His actions were shady but his
intentions were clear
The sky opens bringing him to life
once more
“I can’t wait for the Summer” is a
phrase often mentioned
While new light dances on surreal
cumulus
The sky is covered in blue paint
and the sun’s breath
Walking towards a feeling that
leads to nothing
But adventure will only find the
unsuspecting
The grass is friendly and inviting
Greenery grows in fears absence
Eppur si muove
Trees sing in the presence of a
setting sun
The stars paint the sky but the
music’s just begun
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