Nothing glides upon thinly cut water sheet
Not a young bird washing their fresh belly 
Or hovering flies at its fickle edge 
Or the timid fox nervous at night 
Some rest for those under the surface at last   
The slice that keeps two worlds apart
Secrets now shut under deepening ice

—

The day limbers from its early rise
Shoots stay clenched in their fist 
Twigs hang onto their aching branch 
It isn’t long
What’s hidden will soon flirt 
With the coming of sun
Of hope

—

Now it rushes with undivided mite
Into a new blue, light 
White ice, gone, now the sound of
Circling wings sing and the crisping air
Reveals truth 
Song 
The coming of life