Ice winds murmur keening,
Through scented petals falling,
Winter cold is coming,
Tender green is dying,
And will not see the spring.
Wind blows the blue sky clean,
The sun’s broad field revealing,
But there is no warmth in your thin smile,
And in the air a hint of snow,
Though Easter bells are pealing.
The sun breathes loud on the open sea,
And the clouds sing low their song,
I soar with the white, wave-tipping gulls,
Because you would not sail with me.
Is this hope you offer me or despair?
Do I stay or do I go?
Will you clip my wings,
Or sail by my side,
Over the rim of the sky?
Blue, blue or is it green,
The sky and all that’s in-between
The sea and the yellow upper air?
Follow my gull-flight if you dare,
To where the sun swims in fiery haze,
With moon and stars to the end of days.