
I sing to you from summers of my heart
My voice a field of surge and greening
My roots established in the long-lit hours
Your presence in the throbbing
I sing when fullness burnishes my day
The mellow spices of completion
The harvest of my life in you which yields
A juice of joy and feasting
But when in silence nothing rises up
Into my soul, and I am frozen
When iron days refuse to split and thaw
The clutch of ice to flowing
I struggled to remember the final verse all morning, till it came to me just now:
Then give me faith that warmth will swell the bud
to song, which like a leaf will open
For from the urgings of your steadfast love
There flows my truest singing
Easter's Aurora draws near.