Hush. The dawn is breaking on the hills.
The air is chill. My love is calling:
Awake. Arise. Come with me. Time to go.
It is time to go, and you must leave
with the daisies closed against the dew,
with the young green shoots piercing the earth,
the pigeons burbling and blackbird’s song,
and the candles on the chestnut trees
to light you on your way.
You dug the ground; you sowed the seed,
watered the shoot, and saw
the growth all but imperceptible:
a bud, a leaf – furled – opening – open –
Leave the fruit. It is not yours to pick.
Follow me now beyond the garden.
Come and see.
I have a lovely place to show you.
Though here the flowers bloom and fruit trees
walk this path with me: