YOU ARE SNOWDROP. I AM ROBIN.

 Your dangling skull fixates on the damp path,
Rooted yet restless, nipped by a node of green,Trapped in last year’s leaf loam from the cherry tree.You are Snowdrop. I am Robin.
Across my dancefloor you throw your chubby shadow.I hear shrill thrill from your syrinxPart carillon, part weeping.You are Robin. I am Snowdrop.
Why dance, pale nodding prisoner of the old soilways?Why sing, blood-breasted fugitive from the rusty kettle?
Apart we know no tie or truck, one with the other.Together we are heralds of the hopes of spring,Pearls on a thread of joy sewn through the frozen earthBirthing winter’s slow melt into blossom and blessing.