Poetic Interlude XVII

Between the slats of hope that lies ahead,
I daub the knowledge of a fit so clear
Even the songbirds recognize it, and rejoice.
My sorrow has dried up, I shed no tears.

Believe me! Beyond the orchard blossoms,
Beyond the budding lilac and the maple rust
Even beyond the blooming purple henbit,
Spreads out an ever-greening mist of trust.

Is there a greater gift than loneliness?
Is there a finer teacher, or more wise?
Showing spring-like fidelity in fall,
And giving interwoven love in place of lies.

Give me a bucket or a jar, a basket,
I've found my far-off field between the trees,
And know the growth to be exceeding fruitful -
Far greener pasture than expected for my bees.

I cannot speak all that my heart is singing.
I cannot open up my soul like spring,
For both have fled into the newest blue
Like birds half maimed, sharing one wing.