She Wakes

She Wakes

As spring awakens and wanders through the valley's,

her breath will recreate the warmth lost

during the wine of years.

With such tranquility,

there follows a profoundly silent rage that intertwines itself into a mold of passion,

slowly

recollecting the vibrancy in soft spoken words,

they are forgotten only until the robin recomposes her morning tune

as slowly as she was hatched,

the Lamb was brought to slaughter,

because it is Spring

and that is when old life is sacrificed for new.

Isaiah's chamomile and Luke's chestnut trees twist their roots around each other's,

becoming the foil of all goodness and faith that is rooted

in the flowered field of humanity,

its loveliness precedes her craftsmanship,

carefully intertwining youth into age

and beauty to intellect

slow at first

until all at once, the four become one.

~VL