Rooted yet restless, nipped by a node of green,
Trapped in last year’s leaf loam from the cherry tree.
You are Snowdrop. I am Robin.
Across my dancefloor you throw your chubby shadow.
I hear shrill thrill from your syrinx
Part carillon, part weeping.
You are Robin. I am Snowdrop.
Why dance, pale nodding
prisoner of the old soilways?
Why sing, blood-breasted fugitive from the rusty kettle?
Apart we know no tie or truck, one with the other.
Together we are heralds of the hopes of spring,
Pearls on a thread of joy sewn through the frozen earth
Birthing winter’s slow melt into blossom and blessing.
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