words
in daylight uttered without least dread
have
not the echo of the chilly dark
when
into emptiness we might embark
look up
right now and see the bird is sped
that
bore the message and now in its stead
we're
left to kindle one remaining spark
this
morning when the trees are bare and stark
knowing
so many words were left unsaid
some
might expect a choice but if we feign
not to
give in but to attempt the height
would
laugh to see us fail to reach the stars
rather
they'd say the clouds will promise rain
a storm
is coming and behind it night
yet
here we stand on the green hill of mars