Plainsong

I found a curious place born of emptiness
The silent solitude of the evening sky
Sycamore seeds scatter life on winter days
The robin and the wren break bread in thankfulness

Ever will I rest
Sadly as I weep
Close against your breast
Soundly when I sleep

I hear an ancient air sung with tenderness
A gentle ambient sound full of innocence
Shape-notes of a plainsong hymn through the chapel walls
Green for Epiphany, gold for Trinity

Come my little darling with your deep-set eyes
The dragonfly will rest on your fingertips
The lightest of touch to celebrate the past
In porcelain, paint and wood, then cast aside