hope

The dew on the small white flower 
That brings the first smile on your face
On an early orange sunday morning
Awake before the late set alarm starts ringing
Shouting out the to do lists of everyday

Woken up by the sigh of relief 
Of the earth that cannot believe
That the rain has come yet again
After so long a dry spell
That caused naught but pain

Like the tears of pity of fair angels
As heavens weep for those down below
Pearly white and feathery light
Rain drops in bright sun light
As the midnight's fox weds his long time love

A promise of permanence of all things good
And changes that take us to new things and new hood
Like the deep blue of the eyes of an old emerlad old snake
Who has seen all the seasons and the changes they make
Who rests silent and watchful deep underground

The sure strikes of the smith
Unaware of the angel or snake
Still find its mark, and make the right bend
On this metal, his whole life he will spend
To make the right armor, to make the right blade
To guard his strong castle, where resides his soft, changing heart