Orpheus

The drumlins roll like waves above it all.
Round my feet, like small change for a fare,
First snowdrops scatter, evangelical.
The stag still lifts his antlers through the air.
Winter, her head laid on the world's shoulder,
Will soon be gone. Left to my own devices,
To another spring, I grow even older.
No stream harks back as its water rises.
This reawakening landscape, it turns out,
Is not exactly what I walked towards.
Let sun and moon and stars invigilate
As I put their lives into my own words.