Intimations of a Woman Looking Up

There, resting,
taking a moment
for sorrowless peace.
Trampled a daisy on the way up,
no matter, the wild meadow's currency will return
undiminished tomorrow,
released and sprung,
everything to gain,
nothing lost.

Daisies and dandelions,
daffodils and buttercups,
churned and trodden
return, year on year on year.

There, resting,
the smouldering river over ancient stone
and hoarse, crackling, late summer fires,
play her symphony deep,
pyres, built with care,
in her mind's eye.