glade within the grove

one day we will walk in the murmuring countryside

where the saints are buried in flower fields in crimson poppy

some blushing ravishing morning

crushing velvet blue sky holds us down

air we fly away

the forest is so cool on these warm days

its voices sing you to the iron grey lake

its voices suspended  in  birdsong and  talking reeds

the drumming wing the rustle of rushes

oh everything is as it should be then

the gentle musical brooks the sleeping snake

raspberries and blackberries in the thorns

wren cowled in twig and straw

crow black against blue sky

some music starts up from long ago

an impossible l’age d’or

nature pulling all the strings

rhapsody of deepest springtime

each silver inch of it is of the very strictest beauty

yes everything unbearably holy

unquenchably sacred

unendingly gorgeous

this day must one day come while we are here

and we will live

and

really live