spring

The Mad Man’s Words

all is gently dying
so extolled the mad man’s words
all the life fades from the world
and no melodies are heard,

but he is mad and sees not spring
save for graves freshly turned
yet here too does life sing out
for debts from winter earned.

all is gently growing
birthed in hesitant new days
so we’ll forget the mad man’s notes
whilst death is hid away.