Soon
Wiperwhills will whistle in a grey dawn
That awakes in a mist
and settles on smooth ripples
Of a silent pond.
Soon
Before the swan will uncurl
The furls of her graceful neck
The stars will settle in
Undisturbed reflections.
The crescent moon
Will balance
On the boughs of a willow
Refusing to weep.
In the stillness of morning
Born in the silence of thought
Songs will return to adorn
The heads of children
Their cadences
Crowns of light
Illuminating hope
In a dejected parent\'s heart