A pretty in the tree, safe and sound
Ready for the spring to arrive, sorted
So that the little hatchlings will be able
To take to their wings with elegance and ease.
If only it were so simple, that autumn fell
To winter and winter melted to spring. Seldom
Is such a smooth transition seen between death
And life, well the bits that are inbetween…
A storm is brewing, ready to burst the banks of
The long building rivers, lives will be ruined
Even those way above the land. A turbulant time that
Will shake the the foundations of the Earth and crack the
Sky to reveal what lays beyond.
All that will be left is that safe little birds nest,
Empty and ownerless, never to bear the fruits
Of love, never to produce hope.
Unless of course you show the truth when nothing
But deception shines, then the world will be