and gathered with the deer we look upon
the fields, years of fear and silent woods
where spiders sew new webs with secret pockets
where the sunrise seeps into the horizons
of all our misremembered yesterdays
as a new spring brings life from under the leaves
we lay our weapons down atop the dew
quietly surrounding feelings of the unknown
our hands reaching for roots or silken strands
refreshing to find comfort in something familiar again
the dirt is cold on our cracked and creviced hands
that only time has seen only perceived with a naked eye
we kneel before each other and cradle tiny corms
loose gestures trail bright crocuses along