Beneath the silent frozen floe,
Waiting for its time,
Under stumps and rocks and ice,
Sleeping in the vine,
Measuring days, the warmth and light,
Solar angles rise,
Sending home from parts unknown,
Pulsing wings across the skies,
This silent Spring drives clockwork things;
We’re captive in the round.
We sense the Earth’s rebirthing;
We hear the trickling sound.
We are the melting winter ice;
Through crystal cracks we make our start.
And fracture down through frozen ground,
To pool inside our Heart.
We follow close the hidden stream,
Carving worlds anew.
We fan the fire feeding dreams,
Of sun drenched hills in view.
Of flowers, fields and gentle breeze,
Creatures of every kind,
Spring grows and shares all we hold dear,