The Victory of Light

Over the long green hill
far, far away
was a small field standing
waiting in the morning sun
and sung about with little birds
and hung about with my only blue
and white clouds and honey
from the buttercup wood
for you.

The air was alive with joy
when I spoke to you there
above a whisper
of a longing for you
and me to share
beyond suspicion
and beyond care
your sweetness made aware.

The simple regard
for you on your own
which I put in your seed
when it first was sown.