The quiet of the naked trees release
The spores of pity. Chevrons, white and red,
From blackbirds flash. Mechanicals are still.
Ascending from a silent fairy land
Life groans, gripped by winter that has overstayed
It’s times. The ceanothus pushes out
Against a past where Arthur and Sir Gawain
Are holding still beneath the meadow oaks—
Burnt alarums shutter thought and time
Is needed to release the anger, pain
While redbuds, dogwoods struggle for the sun.
Wait, oppressive, suffocates the hope
That struggles trapped beneath a shattered land.